My Dark Haired Fereldan Beauty
by Yolashillinia
Summary: Elizabeth Cousland didn't particularly dream of becoming a Grey Warden, but now it's all she has left in the darkness of the Fifth Blight. Until she meets a golden-eyed man sent to kill her... Novelization of DAO. LizZev, hints of Morristair. Rated M for violence and some sexy times. Complete.
1. Highever

Written 2015

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Highever, Autumn

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"Father?" Elizabeth Cousland walked briskly into the great hall of Castle Highever. "Oh! I did not know you had company already…"

"I'll send my eldest off with my men at once," Bryce Cousland was saying to his friend, Rendon Howe. "No need to keep the king waiting. But tomorrow, you and I will ride out just like the old days!"

Rendon Howe chuckled. "Though we both had less grey in our hair, and we fought Orlesians, not… monsters."

"But they'll still smell the same," Bryce said, laughing in turn. "Ah, pup, I didn't see you there. Come greet Rendon! Rendon, I don't think you've seen my daughter Elizabeth in some time."

"You have grown lovelier than ever, Lady Elizabeth," Rendon said, bowing to her.

"Thank you, Arl Howe," Elizabeth said, curtseying in her dress of blue Antivan silk. "I hear your men have been delayed on the roads?"

"Indeed," Howe said, sniffing with distaste. "The rains have done terrible things to the highway. I am glad that I came on ahead."

"Fergus will lead the Highever soldiers to Ostagar today, and tomorrow Rendon and I will ride with the Amaranthine men."

"Oh, before I forget," Rendon said, "my son Thomas was asking after you. Perhaps I should let him come next time, when we aren't running around playing warrior."

Elizabeth blushed, trying to figure out what exactly the arl meant by that. But at her age, there was really only one meaning behind those words. "Ah… Thomas is rather younger than me, isn't he?"

Bryce laughed. "You can't get her to look twice at a boy, Rendon. My fierce girl is all tomboy under that demure face."

"Father…" Elizabeth murmured, embarrassed.

Rendon Howe did not look put out. "It is no matter. I'd offer to acquaint her with my eldest son, but he is still training in the Free Marches."

"At any rate, pup, were you looking for me? I was about to send for you, so that works nicely."

"I was sent word that Mother wishes to speak to you about Fergus as soon as you can. What do you wish, Father?"

"I wanted to remind you that while your brother and I are both away, you are in charge of the castle."

"I remember, Father. I… I'm not certain I'm ready, but I'll do my best…"

"All you have to do is keep peace in the region; I'm sure Gilmore will be eager to assist you. But you know what they say about mice when the cats are away, yes? Be alert for bandits and the like. I'm sure we won't be gone long. There shouldn't be too much difficult administration before we return. But I'm also reminding you of this because we have another guest…" He turned to a servant. "Please show Duncan in."

.

Duncan was a man in his forties with a full black beard. He wore armour of a make Elizabeth was not familiar with. "It is an honour to be a guest within your hall, Teyrn Cousland. Lady Elizabeth, I presume." Elizabeth curtseyed again.

Rendon turned immediately to Bryce. "Your Lordship, you didn't mention that a Grey Warden would be present."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. The Grey Wardens were famous, verging on the realm of fairy-tale heroes, and with good reason.

"Duncan arrived only a couple hours ago, unannounced," Bryce told Rendon soothingly. "Is that a problem?"

"Of course not. I am only… at a disadvantage with a guest of this stature," Rendon said. "Forgive me, ser," he said to Duncan.

"It is of no matter, Arl Howe," Duncan said, his voice low and unconcerned.

"It's true," Bryce said. "We rarely have the pleasure of meeting a Grey Warden in person. You remember what Brother Aldous taught you of the Wardens, right, pup?"

"They're an order of great warriors who defeated the darkspawn four hundred years ago," Elizabeth said, smiling at her father.

"Not permanently, I fear," Duncan said.

"Without their warning of the darkspawn rising now, half the nation might have been overrun before we could assemble an army. But Duncan is here on a more personal matter, am I correct?"

"I am looking for promising recruits before joining my fellow Wardens at Ostagar. People strong of mind and stature, brave and tenacious."

"You might consider my friend, Ser Gilmore," Elizabeth said. "He is all of those things."

"I observed him earlier. But if I might be so bold, I would suggest that Lady Elizabeth is also an excellent candidate."

Bryce shook his head. "Thank you for the honour, but no. I've not so many children I'll gladly see them all off to war. Unless you intend to invoke the Right of Conscription?"

Elizabeth looked from the Warden to her father, but made no answer. Inside, she was intrigued by the Wardens, and she would rather have liked to join her father and brother in battle… and if it was also beside Wardens, all the more exciting. She had never considered becoming a Warden herself… Although, if Duncan used the Right of Conscription, she would not have a choice in the matter. It didn't matter which country they were in, all Grey Wardens had the right to conscript new members to their darkspawn-killing, peace-keeping cause.

"Have no fear," Duncan assured her father. "While we need as many good recruits as we can find, I do not intend to force the issue."

"Thank you," Bryce said. "Elizabeth, can you ensure that Duncan is comfortable while I am gone?"

"Yes, Father," Elizabeth said. "It will be an honour."

Bryce nodded. "In the meantime, you should find Fergus and tell him of the change in plan. I assume that is what your mother wished to speak to me about; tell her I will speak with her very soon. First I must discuss the battle in the south with Duncan and Rendon."

"Yes, Father," Elizabeth said, and smiled. "Right away." She curtseyed to all three men. "I will see you later, my lords."

.

She strode briskly out of the hall and up the narrow passage between hall and soldiers' quarters, looking for her brother or mother. Her brother, she assumed, would be spending some time with his wife and son in his rooms before he left, and he would be leaving sooner than he was expecting, perhaps. Her mother… she did not know where she would be. She had guests; perhaps she would be in the garden.

After only a few paces, a broad-shouldered, redheaded young man stepped out of an alcove and took a position two steps behind her. "Lady Elizabeth."

"Ser Gilmore." She kept her head high and did not look at him.

"Would my lady give me leave to accompany her?"

"Certainly she would," she answered, and now she looked at him, and they shared a smile that was almost a conspiratorial smirk. "Have you seen my mother?"

"I believe she is in the garden, my lady."

"Then I will see her on the way to Fergus." She continued walking up towards the noble residence at the back of the castle. Ser Gilmore, her personal knight and best friend, followed her. He was only a few years older than her, but they had essentially grown up together – they were closer in age than she was to her brother. He was the son of the Bann of a small county in the Bannorn, but he had served Highever as a squire and then as a knight for many years.

"What is the news? Is it true there's a Grey Warden here?"

"Indeed it's true. His name is Duncan. I told him you might be a good recruit."

"Did you? Thank you. I should love to become a Grey Warden. Is that why he's here? He's recruiting?"

"I think so. He suggested I would also be a good candidate, but Father wasn't happy about that."

"I suppose he wouldn't be. Well, maybe you can introduce me to him later?"

"All right, but if he does take you, you must promise not to have too much fun without me."

"I promise to be miserable," Gilmore said solemnly with a twinkle in his eye.

"In other news, Arl Howe's men have indeed been delayed as we guessed, so Fergus will be taking our army south as soon as may be so as not to keep the king waiting, and Father and Arl Howe will ride out tomorrow as soon as the Amaranthine men arrive."

"I see. That's what you're doing now, isn't it?"

"Yes, I must tell Fergus to stop lounging about again."

"Ah, siblings… Wish I had some."

"No you don't," Elizabeth said tartly. "You have me."

"My lady is too kind," he teased her. "Is the Grey Warden going to the battle too, eventually? It is darkspawn, after all."

"I think so. He said something about Ostagar and other Wardens. I hope to ask him more later."

She turned up towards the garden and saw her mother almost at once. "Mother."

Eleanor Cousland turned to her daughter and caught her by the shoulders, looking severe. "Elizabeth. Darling. What have we talked about with the sparring?"

"That it's unladylike…"

"Yes, and?"

"I shouldn't do it when there are guests- but Mother, this morning there weren't any guests."

"Did you not know that a Grey Warden was visiting?"

"No, truly. I only knew when Father introduced him to me a few moments ago. Father says he will come speak with you very soon, too. He is just talking to Arl Howe and Duncan."

"Very well. But dear, you're wearing your nicest silk dress… I hope you cleaned after you did your playfighting with Ser Gilmore."

"Yes, Mother. I used the washcloth. I even used soap today. The dress won't spoil."

"All right, then." Eleanor let go of her daughter. "Come greet Lady Landra, darling. Landra, you remember my daughter, right?"

"I believe we met at your mother's spring salon," Lady Landra said to Elizabeth.

"It's good to see you again, my lady," Elizabeth said, dropping yet another curtsey.

"You're too kind," Lady Landra said, laughing. "I think I spent the entire salon trying to convince you to marry my son."

"And making a very poor case of it too, I might add, Mother," said Landra's son, laughing in turn. "Hello again, Lady Elizabeth."

"Yes, you've met Dairren before, haven't you? He's not married yet either," Landra said sotto voce, and Elizabeth blushed, and Dairren laughed again, and Gilmore coughed and tried to look invisible. Eleanor only smirked.

"Don't listen to her," Dairren said to Elizabeth, chuckling still. "It's good to see you, and may I say you look more beautiful than ever."

"Thank you," she said, rather coolly. She was not interested in Dairren. He was plain, and unimaginative, and she had not been impressed by him either at the spring salon or in the tournament the year before.

"And she fights like a man," Gilmore muttered to himself, and she wanted to elbow him, but that would definitely have been unladylike, so she refrained.

"And there's my handmaiden, Iona," Lady Landra continued, gesturing to a pretty blonde elf. "Go on, say something, dear."

"Hello, my lady," said the elf very softly, curtseying. "You are as pretty as your mother describes."

Elizabeth was getting rather tired of this, but she was locked in the conversation as her mother began complaining about how hard it was to find someone to marry Elizabeth, and of the dearth of grandchildren…

At length, Lady Landra said she would retire until dinner, and Elizabeth finally had time to pass on her message about Fergus, and head up to her brother's room.

.

She knocked on the door and waited for her brother to call out "Come in!" Gilmore waited in the hall for her.

Fergus was seated on the bench at one side of the room, with his wife Oriana beside him and his son Oren on his knee. "Ah, little sister! Is Father ready to go yet?"

"Actually, Father isn't leaving just yet," Elizabeth said. "But you are leaving according to the original plan. Arl Howe's men aren't here yet. When they get here, Father will go with them."

"I see… You'd think his men were all walking backwards, wouldn't you?" Fergus sighed in exasperation.

"Is there really going to be a war, papa?" little Oren interrupted. "Will you bring me back a suh-word?"

"A _sword_?" Fergus chuckled. "I'll bring you back the mightiest one I can find, I promise. Don't worry, lad, I'll be back before you know it."

"I wish I could be so certain," Oriana murmured with her light Antivan accent. "My heart is disquiet…"

"Mama?" Oren asked.

Elizabeth swung the boy up into her arms. "Your papa speaks the truth, Oren. Don't be worried."

"That's right," Fergus said, turning to his wife. "Dry your eyes, love, and wish me well." He gave her a kiss.

"Should we wait outside?" Elizabeth teased.

"No, stay," Fergus said sternly, then smiled. "I'd like to say farewell to everyone at once. We already said our farewells last night…" Oriana pinched his arm and he yelped.

"I keep wishing I could come with you," Elizabeth said.

"I'd be glad to have you, believe me," Fergus answered. "It'll be tiring, killing all those darkspawn myself!" Elizabeth smiled.

"In Antiva, a noblewoman fighting would be unthinkable," Oriana said, part of a long-standing argument between her and Elizabeth.

"Is that so?" Fergus asked. "I'd always heard Antivan woman were quite dangerous." He winked.

Oriana huffed. "With kindness and poison only, my husband."

"And you serve me my tea!"

"What are they talking about?" Oren asked.

Elizabeth bounced her nephew in her arms. "Whether girls should fight. Do you think girls should fight?"

"I think I should fight," Oren announced. "But I'm not a girl. You fight, Auntie! But you're not a girl either. You're Auntie."

Fergus chuckled. "Word from the south is that the battles have gone well," he said. "That it's not a Blight, only a large raid."

"A very large raid," Oriana said disapprovingly.

"I'll see for myself soon enough," Fergus told her. "Pray for me, love, and I'll be back in a month or two. If it's any consolation, I'll be freezing my toes off in the winter mud of the Korkari Wilds and be completely jealous of you up here in this snug warm castle."

"Ser Gilmore said something similar," Elizabeth said.

"I hope you brought enough socks…" Oriana murmured to herself.

"It's a Ferelden thing to forget enough socks," Bryce Cousland joked as he and Eleanor entered. "I'm not sure why; the other nations enjoy pointing out that we have enough mud."

Eleanor clasped her son's face in her hands. "Be well, my son. I will pray for your safety every day that you are away."

"Thank you, Mother. But no darkspawn will ever best me!"

Oriana began murmuring a prayer to the Maker. "Bring our sons, husbands, and fathers safely back to us…"

"And bring us some ale and wenches while you're at it!" Fergus teased with a laugh.

"Fergus!" scolded his wife.

"What's a wench?" asked Oren innocently.

"Er, a wench is… the woman who pours ale in a tavern," Bryce explained to his grandson. "Or a woman who drinks a lot of ale," he added in a lower voice, and Fergus laughed while Eleanor sighed.

"Bryce! It's like living with a pair of little boys. Thankfully, I have a daughter. Although she too insists on running about with a sword every morning."

"Didn't you fight when you were my age, Mother?" Elizabeth retorted.

"I did, but I like to think I won your father's heart with more… feminine arts." Behind Eleanor, Bryce mouthed "No, she didn't" while shaking his head exaggeratedly.

Fergus laughed. "I'll miss you, Mother-dear. Bethy, you'll take care of them all while you're in charge of the castle, won't you?"

"Of course I will," Elizabeth said.

"You're going to be in charge?" Oren exclaimed, and wriggled so much she had to put him down again. "So you can do whatever you like?"

Elizabeth laughed. "No, Oren. I have many responsibilities. It will be hard, but I'll have Mother to help me."

"Only for a few days, dear, and then I'm going to accompany Lady Landra to her estate for a while. She'd like some company while her husband is away at the war too, and my presence here might undermine your authority."

Elizabeth's face fell. "Mother, I'm only eighteen… do you really think I'm ready to be _all by myself_?"

"You're ready for anything, Bethy," Fergus said, slapping her back. "I had to do it a few years ago when Father was away at that Landsmeet. You can't do worse than I did!"

"You did fine, Fergus," Bryce said. "Now you face a new challenge. But I'll be following after you."

"That's right. Well, I'd better go, then," Fergus announced. "So many darkspawn to behead, so little time!" He kissed his wife again, ruffled his son's hair, and strode to the door. "I'll see you soon, Father!"

.

.

In an hour, Elizabeth and Gilmore were sitting on the edge of the highest parapet, eating apples, pretending they were much younger than they were. They had watched Fergus march out at the head of their army, his mabari warhound Goldie at his side, and Elizabeth had waved heartily even though her brother was not watching – though he did look back once, and wave, though more likely he was waving to Oren and Oriana, also waving on the lower wall. Now Elizabeth kicked the wall with her light leather shoes and wondered if she could throw her apple core all the way out to the road in front of the front gate, but decided against it – someone could get hurt.

"And tomorrow you will be lady and mistress of all this," Gilmore said, gesturing to the rolling wooded hills and valleys of fields that was Highever. Everything was golden in the light of late autumn; the trees were in various shades between blazing and drab.

"I do have plans, you know," she confided in him. "I'm going to start with a general inspection, and then drills, and then we'll march out on patrol…"

"What about the castle, my lady?"

"I'm still debating whether I should go on patrol and leave you here, or if I should stay here and send you out. Both have merits and demerits."

"Can't you get someone else to take care of the castle so we can both go?"

"Who, Nan?" Elizabeth laughed. "Brother Aldous? Neither of them want that job. I have to be at least a little bit responsible while I'm playing at Teyrna."

He looked at her curiously. "Lady Elizabeth, do you want to become Teyrna?"

"I… would like to take responsibility for a realm, certainly. Maybe not Highever, although it will always be my home… I feel like I'm waiting for something to change. There's someone I need to meet, or something unexpected needs to redirect my life, before I can know for certain what I'm going to do with the rest of my life. Maker knows I cause enough trouble for something to happen," she added, and Gilmore chuckled.

"But you're so polite and charming in public! …What if the Grey Warden did try to recruit you? What would you think?"

"I'm… not sure. I haven't thought about it much. I… know it would be heroic, but I think I'm content to stay as I am, as a not-Grey Warden. Besides, you don't think he was serious when he said he was considering me, do you?"

"Why not? Begging your pardon, my lady, but besides the fact that this Duncan doesn't seem the type to be anything but serious, you are no ordinary noblewoman… no, you are no ordinary woman. You're strong and skilled and the equal of any man on the sparring ground or off it."

"I've never actually fought in real life, except that one time the hunt was attacked by a bear…"

"With whom you fought valiantly before your brother slew it. I think Duncan would be a fool to overlook you. Some of the men even say you'd make a better Teyrna than your brother a Teyrn, did you know that?"

"I didn't. …Thank you for telling me, now I have something to bother him with when he returns… not seriously, of course."

Gilmore laughed. "Of course, my lady."

There was a hail from the wall below. "Lady Elizabeth?"

"Yes, ser?" Elizabeth called down.

"Teyrna Eleanor requests that you remove your dog from the kitchen pantry."

"I understand, and thank you," Elizabeth answered. "No rest for the wicked," she said to Gilmore. "Will you continue to accompany me?"

"As my lady wishes," Gilmore said, offering her his hand to help her off the parapet. She didn't need it, and he knew she didn't, and she knew he knew. She accepted it anyway.

.

Nan was in a huff at the door to the kitchen, the elf scullery maids and boys behind her. "Finally! Lady Elizabeth, with all due respect, get your bloody mutt out of the larder! The elves are useless and won't go a pace near it! Bloody mongrel…"

Elizabeth forced a soft smile on her face. She didn't like hearing anyone talking ill of anyone else, not even elves, and certainly not her dog, but Nan was old and crotchety and had once been Elizabeth's nurse, and her cross exterior belied an incredibly caring heart. "I'm sorry he's bothering you, Nan. I've asked him before not to…"

"Just get him gone!" Nan complained. "I may not have a castle full of hungry soldiers to feed at the moment, but just wait until tomorrow when those Amaranthines come marching in! Men on the march eat as much as men at home, if not more, especially when it's on someone else's bill! I've enough to worry about keeping the castle in order without chasing around your hound as well! I should just retire and let you all take care of your own messes! Maker knows I've earned it…"

"All right, Nan. I'm going to go fetch him."

"Stop standing there like idiots!" Nan snapped at the elves. "Get out of Lady Elizabeth's way!"

Elizabeth strode in to the kitchen, which was in some disarray, with preparations for evening supper abruptly abandoned. There was her adorable 180 pound wardog, Huan, growling at the entrance to the larder door. She had named him for a character in one of her favourite adventure stories. "Is something in there, boy?" His growling rose a notch, whirring like a millstone at high speed. "Do you want to take a look before we let Nan get on with her work?"

"Is that wise?" Gilmore asked. "Nan won't be happy if we aren't quick."

"Nan won't leave, whatever she threatens. Just a look. It might be important. It can't be that he's found the treats… they're right there on the table."

She cracked open the door to the larder.

Huan shouldered it open the rest of the way and bounded in, and in the light of the lamp bracketed to the wall, she saw gleaming eyes of animals large as cats, and yet not cats.

"Rats!" Gilmore cried, drawing his sword and shield. "Giant rats! It's like the beginning of every bad adventure story my grandfather used to tell."

"Give me your sword!" Elizabeth cried, hurrying them both inside and slamming the door so none would escape into the kitchen.

"What, but then I'll have-"

"I only have this dress, and you have armour and your knife! Get to it, man!"

"Right you are," Gilmore said, and passed over his sword.

Huan was already in the thick of things, crunching rats with his powerful jaws. Elizabeth swung the sword at the furry creatures, her first priority to keep her dress intact and as clean as possible, for her mother would scold her dreadfully if the rats tore it or bled on it. They were quick and vicious, but fortunately for her, Huan was taking the bulk of the work, his hunter reflexes helping him drive the rats away from her.

Gilmore was doing the best he could on the other side of her, but his knife was not very long and he had to stoop to effectively strike the quick rats. He was wary of doing so, aware that one of them could jump on his throat and face, though he also had his shield to help him.

Elizabeth wished she was not wearing company clothes, that she could fight properly, but she had little choice at this point, and she still managed to hit some of the rats. Huan finished them off for her a moment later.

The final killcount was four for Elizabeth, five for Gilmore, and at least a dozen for Huan, by the time the scuttling noises and squeaking ceased. Now Huan sat quietly, scratching his ear and looking bemused by all the small dead furry bodies.

"We are victorious!" cried Gilmore, holding aloft his dagger triumphantly.

She smirked and flicked the sword-point at him, spattering him with small droplets of blood, before handing it back to him. He wiped it off his face and flicked his knife at her in turn, and his face turned absolutely horror-stricken a fraction of a second before a fine line of blood drops landed across her bodice.

"Oh Maker, I am so sorry! Oh, your mother is going to kill me for ruining…"

"It's fine," Elizabeth said. "I will take care of it."

"But it's silk… Isn't it supposed to be impossible to clean? My armour just wipes down, I forgot about you…"

"I have my ways," she said. "But I should change and deal with it before Mother sees, yes." Huan looked up at her, tongue lolling out quizzically. "No, Huan, you may not lick the blood off this time. That would only make it worse."

"I'm so sorry…"

"It was bound to happen sooner or later. Make yourself scarce for twenty minutes and then I shall come find you again."

"As you say, my lady."

"Now let's get out of here before Nan explodes."

"After you, my lady."

.

"There he is, as brazen as you please," Nan said to Huan as they exited the kitchen. "No doubt he helped himself to the roast while he was in there, licking his chops like that. You two didn't help him, did you? What was all that shouting?"

"I'm sorry for taking so long, Nan. There were giant rats in the larder. We killed them all."

"G-giant rats?" squeaked one of the elves.

Nan sighed. "Now look what you've done, you've made the servants all jumpy. None of them will go in there alone now."

"He made sure it's safe," Elizabeth said, ruffling her dog's ears, and hoping to distract her old nurse from noticing the discolourations on her dress.

"I'm sure that mutt let those rats in there to begin with," Nan said, ushering the servants back into the kitchen. "And now someone has to clean up the mess…"

Huan lifted his face to her and made a sad whine.

"Don't even start with the sad eyes!" Nan commanded. "I'm immune to your so-called charms."

Huan whined some more, even more mournfully.

"Fine, fine," Nan sighed, and tossed the dog some bits. "Take these pork rinds, and never say Nan never did anything for you! Bloody dog."

Huan barked happily and snatched up the pork bits before running back outdoors.

"I'm sorry, Nan," Elizabeth said again.

"Yes, yes, be off with you. I've a dinner to prepare, girl."

.

True to her word, in twenty minutes Elizabeth was changed, and found Gilmore at the entrance to the castle chapel.

"I hope those rats have nothing to do with the darkspawn," she said, rather troubled.

"They were from the far south, that much I can tell. I hope the same as you."

She looked inside the chapel to where Mother Malol knelt before the icon of Andraste. "While we're here, shall we pray that Fergus comes to no harm, and that those rats aren't a symbol of worse things to come?"

Gilmore smiled. "Don't be paranoid, my lady. But yes, let's."

Elizabeth was maybe not a very good follower of Andraste. But she did try to pray, when she remembered, and she did respect the Brothers and Sisters of the Chantry.

.

After she said her prayers, she spent some time with her father and Arl Howe; for the latter, a shadow of something might have crossed his face when she wished him luck for the upcoming battle with the darkspawn. She wondered what it might mean, or perhaps if she had imagined it.

Duncan was present too, a quiet shadow in a corner of the hall. He seemed to be observing more than just martial prowess, though that made sense when she thought about it. She asked Duncan as many questions as she dared about Grey Wardens and darkspawn, Gilmore an eager eavesdropper. Duncan seemed a very patient man, a man whose calm was born of vast experience, but she had no doubt he was the fiercest fighter she had yet met.

Dinner was an awkward affair, for she was seated between Dairren and Arl Howe. The former she had no interest in, and the latter was only interested in talking to her father. But when Rendon and Bryce began telling tales of their battles against the Orlesian occupation, she had something to listen to eagerly, and could hush Dairren in his awkward courtship.

After dinner, her father called her and kissed her good night. "Get some sleep, pup. You have a big day tomorrow."

.

.

Elizabeth was woken in what ought to have been the dead of night by her mabari growling at the door, instead of lying in his usual place at the foot of her bed.

"Hnnn?" she grunted groggily. "Down, boy. Trying to sleep."

Instead, his ominous growling turned into furious barking. Clearly, something was wrong. And… was that smoke she smelled?

She flung the covers off and turned to her sword and shield before edging towards the door. But Huan didn't want her to get to the door. "What's wrong, Huan? I need to go investigate." He growled at her.

The door slammed open – she had never needed to lock her door at night – and three armoured soldiers burst in. She didn't know any of them. "State your business!" she commanded, and instead they began to advance on her. There was a fourth one outside the door, aiming a crossbow at her.

There was the briefest instant in which she realized they were actually going to attack her, to try to kill her, and she would have to fight for her life. Her only defense was her nightgown and the locket she always wore. Her eyes widened.

Huan leaped on one man, bearing him to the ground and initiating a desperate struggle. That left two for Elizabeth to deal with before getting to the archer, and she had to negotiate her rather large bedstead to attack them. Although, that meant that they did too.

"Who are you?" she screamed with rage, her sword flashing to the attack despite her lack of armour. She would put it on as soon as she could. For now she would have to be clever with her shield.

"Damned hound!" the one on the floor was shouting, trying and failing to draw his dagger. "Get him off me! He'll wake the whole castle!" There was a horrible gurgling cry as Huan tore his throat out and instantly bounded for the crossbowman before the ones attacking Elizabeth could react.

Elizabeth was no mean swordsman, despite having woken up only seconds before, and had already deflected one crossbow bolt with her shield while beating back one soldier. The other was trying to flank her, but Elizabeth was keeping her tall chest of drawers where he couldn't get around it – and her.

Fear and anger warred within her breast. It was their lives or hers. She gritted her teeth and went for a killing blow – and almost staggered in shock when it connected.

The other soldier swore, and she struck him with her shield, battering down his defenses, trying to find a weak spot in his armour. She jumped across the bed, away from the dead bodies spilling blood across her floor, as his sword struck at her defenseless legs, and she backed into the other side of her room as he came at her again.

He still thought he could best her. She could read it in his eyes, the set of his lips. But she'd had the best tutors in everything, including swordplay. She doubted very much he'd had the same.

Rage was rapidly winning out over fear, and he was unprepared for her fierce counterattack with both shield and sword.

Huan barked in the doorway, as the body of the soldier collapsed to the floor.

"Oh, Huan, you're all right! What in the Maker's name is going on? Stand watch while I get my armour on." She tugged her waist-length chestnut waves into a ponytail and reached for her clothes. She wasn't going to investigate without a proper tunic and trousers at the very least. And perhaps there would be time to get a breastplate on, maybe some bracers…

"Elizabeth!" Her mother now stood in the door, in full leather armour herself, and a quiver at her back and a bow in her hand. "Darling! You're all right!"

"Mother!" Elizabeth cried. "So are you!"

"Hurry and get your armour on, dear. I think you and Huan have slain all the invaders sent to this part of the castle, but more will certainly come."

"Who are they, Mother? What's going on?" Elizabeth flung on her steel breastplate, her fingers working frantically at the buckles.

"I don't know," Eleanor said slowly, looking down the hall towards the courtyard door. "Whoever it is knows that Fergus and our soldiers are away…"

Elizabeth did up the last buckle of her left greave and, glancing over the closest dead soldier, gasped. "Mother…"

On the shoulder of the soldier's leather armour was the brown bear of Amaranthine.

She could hear the grinding of her mother's teeth from where she knelt. "That traitorous, cowardly scum… Howe is behind this!? I'll tear him apart myself!" With an effort, Eleanor regained her composure. "Quickly, dear. We must see that Oren and Oriana are safe, and Landra and her people, and Warden Duncan."

A cold weight dropped into Elizabeth's stomach. In all the rush, she had forgotten about everything but surviving and getting armour on. "Surely they would have heard Huan's barking."

"I hope they had the sense to stay in their chambers if they heard it…" Eleanor crossed the hall. "Oriana? It's Eleanor. Are you all right?"

There was no answer, and Eleanor shoved the door open urgently.

She screamed, and Elizabeth gasped, both staring in horrified grief at the bodies of woman and child.

Eleanor knelt beside Oren. "Poor child… poor boy…" She smoothed the hair back from his forehead and closed his eyes. "Ah, poor Oriana… Poor Fergus!" She began to weep, rocking slowly back and forth with her grandson's hand clasped between her own.

"Mother," Elizabeth said. "We must find Father. We must find if any of our remaining soldiers survive."

Eleanor gulped back another sob and stood. "You are right, Elizabeth." She turned and laid a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "You… would truly have made a fine leader for the teyrnir."

Elizabeth stared briefly at her mother, not wanting to process those words yet. She turned and made for the door. "We still have to check on Lady Landra."

"One moment first," Eleanor said, hurrying back to her own chambers. She reappeared in a moment with a shining longsword and a kite shield with the Cousland laurels on it. "Take these. Use them until we find your father." Elizabeth took them, slinging her own sword and shield back onto her back for the time being.

Lady Landra was also dead, and her son Dairren and maid Iona. Eleanor was almost in shock. "Poor Landra… she came here to get away from talk of fighting and death…"

"What of our last guest, the Grey Warden?" Elizabeth said. "His room is empty and shows no signs that he was ever in it."

"Do you suspect him?" Eleanor accused her.

"I don't know. I just want to know where he might be. Listen, there is a commotion in the courtyard and hall. Father must be fighting the invaders."

"Let's go then," Eleanor said, her voice deadly cold. "I will shoot every last one of Howe's soldiers before I shoot him himself, right between his beady little eyes."

Elizabeth led her mother and her dog down into the courtyard. Buildings, structures were burning. She almost tripped over the body of a dead elf. So they really were killing everyone at the castle, not just assassinating the Couslands and their guests.

Someone shouted. They had been seen.

"Come on, then!" Eleanor shouted back, setting an arrow to the string, and Elizabeth found her mood mirrored her mother's. Her teeth flashed in the light of the fire as she charged into battle beside her mabari, no matter the number of soldiers they were facing.

They were only facing five, now – her mother had already shot one. Even as Elizabeth reached them, another of them fell to Eleanor's marksmanship, and Huan bore another to the ground, snapping at his unprotected face.

That left two for Elizabeth again, but now she was wearing her armour and wielding her father's sword and shield. They wouldn't stand a chance against her.

Her mother cried out, and Elizabeth risked a glance back. There were more soldiers converging on her mother, close enough that she had drawn her knife to defend herself.

"Mother!" Elizabeth shrieked, bashing the one soldier in the face and sending him stumbling against his companion, and she turned and sprinted to her mother's aid. But she wouldn't make it in time…

A pair of red-silver blurs slashed at the soldiers surrounding her mother, and they fell to the ground.

"Teyrna Cousland," said Duncan, "are you unharmed?"

"For the time being," Eleanor said tartly, then relented. "Thank you, Grey Warden. I am glad you are still alive. Elizabeth! What are you doing?"

"Ah! Sorry!" Elizabeth stopped staring – a fatal mistake, she knew – and turned to deal with the no-longer-dazed soldiers attacking her.

When they were dead, she turned to her mother and Duncan. "Have you seen my father?"

"I have not seen Teyrn Cousland," Duncan said. "How do you wish to proceed?"

"Bryce will probably be in the hall," Eleanor said. "Come, the way to it lies clear. Elizabeth, as I knock on the door, flank me and ensure that the ones who answer are our own true men."

"Right away, Mother."

Eleanor knocked on the door of the hall. "It's Eleanor Cousland. Who is in there?"

There was a pause, some hasty conversation on the other side, and then someone shouted "Well don't just stand there, let her ladyship in!" Elizabeth could have fallen to her knees in relief, for the voice was Gilmore's.

The door was opened for them and they hastened into the great hall. Gilmore was directing soldiers to build a barricade against the door leading to the front gates; Elizabeth could see the door shuddering under heavy blows even as they did so. Gilmore turned away from that towards the newcomers. "My ladies! I am so glad to see you alive and safe! I was trying to secure this position as quickly as possible so as to search for you. When I realized what was happening, it was all I could do to shut the doors…"

"You are doing well," Eleanor told him. "Is Bryce here?"

Gilmore's face grew long. "I have not seen the Teyrn. I do not know where he is."

"It's possible… he could be at the hidden passage," Eleanor said. "Or perhaps Howe killed him first."

"In either case, it sounds like your destination is this hidden passage," Duncan said. "Do you know where it is, Teyrna?"

"It's out of the scullery," Eleanor said. "It sounds like Howe's men are mostly at the front of the hall. Perhaps we can slip by them to the kitchen."

"We'll hold them off for you," Gilmore said. The front door creaked.

"Maker watch over you, Ser Gilmore," Eleanor said, already hurrying to the other side door of the hall.

Elizabeth did not follow her mother, but hurried after Gilmore where he was surveying his barricade and his remaining soldiers, most of them already injured. "Come with us!" she said, touching his arm.

He gave her a sad smile. "I can't. The men need someone to lead them. I will protect you for as long as I can." He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Go on. Get out of here, Elizabeth." He turned to Duncan. "Take care of them, ser."

"I will," Duncan said. "And know you would have been most welcome among the Wardens, Ser Gilmore."

Gilmore smiled briefly, nodded once more to Elizabeth, and turned back to encouraging the men at the door.

"Gilmore!" Elizabeth cried, but her mother had grabbed her arm and was dragging her out of the hall. Gilmore did not look back.

.

There was a small huddle of servants in the kitchen, and they screamed when Elizabeth and her companions entered.

"It is me!" Elizabeth assured them. "We are going to escape. Follow my mother…" she trailed off as she caught sight of a trail of blood drops on the floor, leading to the larder. They were fresh; they weren't from the fight with the rats.

Eleanor was ahead of her, and carefully pushed open the door to the larder, then gasped. "Bryce!"

"There you are," Bryce groaned, huddled up against a sack of grain and holding his side. He had not changed from the previous day, and his fine tunic was black with blood. A soldier knelt beside him, attempting futilely to help. "I wondered… when you would get here." His face screwed up in pain.

"Bryce!" Eleanor cried again, kneeling at his other side, supporting him. "How bad is it?"

"Quite bad," Bryce grunted. "Howe's men… found me in the study. If it weren't for some of our brave guards, especially… John here, I wouldn't have gotten away at all."

"Father, can you move?" Elizabeth asked anxiously. "You came here to get to the hidden passage, didn't you?"

"I don't think… I can survive the standing," Bryce said.

"We'll carry you," Elizabeth said desperately.

"No, pup," he said, trying to smile. "You must reach Fergus and… tell him what has happened. Howe… probably thinks he can use… the chaos to advance himself. You must live and teach him otherwise. See that justice is done."

"I swear to you, Father, I will destroy him with my own hands. But you're coming with us!"

"Even… healing magic won't help me now, and I believe… the castle is probably surrounded."

The servants, listening in, gave a low moan of despair.

"They won't have discovered this exit yet. But we must move quickly," Eleanor said, and turned to Duncan. "Will you see to it my daughter makes it to safety?"

"No," Bryce grunted. "Take… my wife and daughter both."

"I will, your lordship," Duncan said. "But I must ask for something in return."

"Anything," Bryce said.

"What is happening here pales in comparison to the evil in the south," Duncan said. "I came here seeking a recruit and the darkspawn threat demands that I leave with one."

"But-" Elizabeth began.

"You were always my first choice," Duncan said to her, and that gave her no happiness. "I will take the Teyrna and your daughter to Ostagar, to inform Fergus and the king of what has happened. Then Elizabeth will join the Grey Wardens."

"If you think you're staying here and sending me away, you have another think coming," Eleanor said sternly to her husband. "I'll kill every bastard who comes through that door to buy them time. But I'm not leaving your side."

The enormity of what was happening was falling on Elizabeth's head like an avalanche. "Father! Mother! I won't leave you either!"

"Duty comes first in our family," Bryce said to his daughter. "You must go. For your own sake… and for Ferelden's. Go, pup. Warn your brother. Know that we love you both. You'll make us proud."

"Goodbye, darling," Eleanor said.

Duncan had to drag her bodily away from her parents.

.

The servants scattered as soon as they reached the outside air; only two and the soldier followed Elizabeth, and those were the ones who survived. The others were all discovered in a few moments and killed; Elizabeth could hear their screams.

She was wandering after Duncan in shock, Huan at her side. Some part of her knew she needed to control herself, to be a good leader to the few who followed her, but she just… couldn't… understand what had happened. Her home was burning, her parents as good as dead, her best friend probably dead, her brother far away, her survival depending on a man who was no more than a stranger to her.

She didn't even know which direction they were going in.

They all marched until the sky began to turn silver-grey instead of clouded black. When they found the old Tevinter highway leading to Denerim, the soldier and the two elves, Gemmet and Elra, stopped. "My lady?"

"Hmm?" Elizabeth turned to them.

"My lady, we're going to head east to Denerim. We don't want to go to Ostagar…"

"But it's a long way to Denerim. It will be dangerous on the road."

"That's true, but perhaps we'll fall in with a caravan or something. My lady, if we returned to the Highever alienage, Arl Howe would find out and then he might do terrible things to the alienage. If we hide in the Denerim alienage, it will be a long time before he knows anyone escaped."

"And I can find work in Denerim too," said John.

"You've thought hard about this," Elizabeth said. "You have my leave to go. And be careful. I should like to see you again. I'm sorry for… not being a better…" She began to tear up.

Elra timidly put a hand on her arm. "We are very sorry for you, Lady. Please be safe in your journey."

She nodded, and they walked away.

.

She, Huan, and Duncan walked south that whole day. Only when it was quite dark did they stop to camp.

Elizabeth huddled in the sleeping roll that Duncan had given her; Huan lay outside the entrance to the tent.

She couldn't sleep, despite the ache in her whole body. Probably no sane person would have been able to, or anyone with a heart. She knew she had to, because she was going to a battle, perhaps a war, but she couldn't.

Her father's agonized face was firmly in her mind, her mother's tears, her nephew's blood-spattered corpse, Gilmore's sad resigned smile. She made a fist until her nails dug painfully into her palm, the other hand clutched around her locket. It held a miniature painting of her family, but she couldn't bear to look at it. She would not forget any of them.

Her shoulders shook as she attempted to stifle her own weeping. She shouldn't keep Duncan awake, either. Perhaps she should go outside and hug Huan until she was in control of herself again…

Duncan gave her space as they travelled, and she was thankful for that. While he was distantly sympathetic, and she had no choice but to follow him, she did not want to speak to him or to anyone.

The next night she slept from sheer exhaustion and her dreams were full of voices.


	2. Ostagar

Ostagar

.

It had been a week since Elizabeth and Duncan had left Highever, and great stone towers were rising into her view over vast hilly expanses of tall black pines. She could see the smoke of controlled fires, and distantly could hear the voices of men and even dogs.

Her heart was a stone weight in her chest. She did not want to have to tell Fergus that their parents were dead… that his wife and son were dead. That Arl Howe had betrayed them and destroyed them, and he and she were the last ones left.

Duncan was hailed by scouts, who brought them to the entrance to the great fortress of Ostagar. Now she was closer, she could see it was shaped like an enormous gateway, a gateway into Ferelden. Two small castles, one with an immensely tall but slender tower, were placed on hills on either side of a ravine, and a bridge joined the two of them across the ravine.

She was more than a little surprised to see a golden-haired man in heavy golden armour, chatting cheerfully with some other soldiers. The golden-haired man turned to Duncan with an excited, boyish smile.

"Ah, Duncan! You have returned. Only one recruit? What a shame. But she looks strong."

"She is strong, Your Majesty," Duncan said. "Even one recruit can help turn the tide."

"I agree," King Cailan said. "What is your name, my lady?"

"I am Elizabeth Cousland," Elizabeth said. "Please, Your Majesty, is my brother here?"

"Cousland?" Cailan frowned, perplexed. "Ah, you must be Bryce's youngest. I don't believe we've ever actually met. But I thought Fergus Cousland said his sister would never be allowed to join the battle. Has something changed? You look grieved."

"My family was betrayed and murdered by Arl Rendon Howe," Elizabeth said, barely keeping her voice steady. "I must tell my brother."

Cailan looked consternated. "That is dreadful news! I can scarcely believe it! How could he think to get away with such treachery? As soon as we are done here, I shall turn my army north and bring him to justice, you have my word."

Elizabeth hadn't dared hope for such a generous response, but she saw, looking into the King's guileless blue eyes, that this was a ruler who cared greatly for those he knew, who wanted his subjects to be happy if he could help them. Even if he was impulsive about it. "Thank you, your Majesty."

"As for your brother, he and his men are scouting at this moment. I'm afraid your reunion will have to wait until he returns, which will hopefully be before tomorrow's battle."

"Hopefully? Your Majesty?"

"Loghain asked him to ascertain whether the darkspawn we face tomorrow will be reinforced from any other quarters, and if he finds anything interesting, he may be delayed. I should have liked to have him in the main assault, but there are many tasks to be performed and not everyone can do the same ones."

"I understand, sire."

"I suggest that you vent your grief against the darkspawn for the time being. Now I must return to my tent. Loghain waits eagerly to bore me with battle plans and strategies. But take heart, good lady! We've won three battles against these monsters, and tomorrow should be no different – and it will be the greatest and most glorious yet!"

"Then it as my brother said, that the Blight is nearly over," Elizabeth cried.

"I'm not even sure it's a true Blight," Cailan said, turning towards the main camp and gesturing for them to follow. "Plenty of darkspawn, but alas, no sign of the Archdemon who's supposed to lead them."

"Disappointed, your Majesty?" Duncan asked dryly.

"I'd hoped for a war like in the old tales!" Cailan said eagerly. "With a king marching to battle beside the fabled Grey Wardens against a tainted god! But I suppose this will have to do. Well, I must to my meeting. Farewell, Grey Wardens."

He quickened his pace, leaving them behind as they set out across the massive bridge. Elizabeth was looking around curiously – at the narrow valley far below them, at the tower that loomed over them, at the ancient white stone arches of the Tevinter-built fortress. Huan kept close at her side, looking around at all the soldiers.

"What the king said is true," Duncan said to her after a pause. "They've won several battles against the darkspawn."

Elizabeth looked up at him. His eyes were dark and calm, gazing over the camp in the ruined fortress at the end of the bridge. "But that is not enough, is it?"

"Despite the victories, the darkspawn horde grows larger with every passing day. By now they certainly outnumber us. I know there is an archdemon behind this, but I cannot ask the king to act solely on my feeling… Yet we must defeat this Blight here and now, before it spills over into the northern lands. If it does, Ferelden is lost."

"But he seems to respect the Grey Wardens very much. Surely…"

"But he will not wait for reinforcements from the Grey Wardens of Orlais. He believes our legend alone makes him invincible. And our numbers in Ferelden are too few – a couple dozen, at most. Teyrn Loghain's army must make up the difference…"

"Teyrn Loghain is a great warrior and general," Elizabeth said. "My father always admired him greatly."

"Indeed," Duncan said. "That reputation is an earned one. But we must proceed to the Joining ritual without delay."

Elizabeth blinked. "Ritual, ser?"

"To fully become a Grey Warden, one must undergo a secret ritual known as the Joining. Every recruit must go through it. I won't hide that it is dangerous, but it is brief, and the reward is worth the risk. Some preparation is required, and we must begin soon."

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "What must I do?"

"I have some preparations of my own to do," Duncan said. "You may explore the camp for about half an hour. Perhaps you will meet the other recruits. The other Wardens are in the main camp below, except for my protégé Alistair. You may wish to introduce yourself, since he will be helping you with your preparation for the Joining."

"All right," Elizabeth said. They had come to a stop in the middle of the bridge, and she looked down again into the valley. She felt exhausted. The march, and talking to the king, and talking with Duncan now about mysterious things she had no control over…

Huan whined and nuzzled her leg.

"Your hound should probably join the other mabari in the camp," Duncan said. "You will not need his help for your quest."

"All right," Elizabeth said again, very quietly.

Duncan looked closely at her and she avoided his eyes. "If you need anything and can't find Alistair, my tent is the third on the left."

He left, walking towards the farther camp with long strides.

Elizabeth leaned on the parapet of the bridge, trying to hold her emotions within herself. The wind was cold and biting and it helped her, at least to focus on physical pain rather than emotional pain.

She stood there for a long moment, one hand absently stroking Huan's furry head. She didn't really see the vista that stretched before her. It didn't matter. Her brother was out there somewhere.

She turned and followed in the direction Duncan had taken, up into the camp.

Soon she found the mabari kennels, and asked the houndmaster to take care of her dog for the time being. The houndmaster was delighted to see a new mabari, especially such a big, strong, healthy one, and Elizabeth left feeling that her dog was in good hands.

She wandered awhile, through the camp in the ruined fortress, and no one paid her any heed. She listened to a troop captain lecture his men on darkspawn at a makeshift training ground, and saw where the field hospital was.

She had just located the royal quartermaster when she heard someone calling her. "Young lady!"

She turned and saw a rather old woman in a robe of brown and gold, looking at her with kind eyes. She went over to her, although she didn't know why.

"Are you all right?" the woman asked with a concerned voice. "You look so lost and sad."

"…Y-yes," Elizabeth said. It was not right to place her burdens on a stranger.

"Well, if you're sure. Ah, I should introduce myself. My name is Wynne, and I'm one of the senior mages summoned by King Cailan."

"Pleased to meet you," Elizabeth said automatically. "My name is Elizabeth C-cousland."

"Ah, you must be Teyrn Cousland's daughter."

"I w-was…" And Elizabeth burst into tears.

"There there," Wynne said, putting a gentle arm around her shoulders and leading her to the shadow of a great black pine growing in the middle of the camp. "I won't pry, but come have a good cry, dear. It sounds like you need it."

Somehow Elizabeth found herself telling Wynne the whole story through sobs and hiccoughs. The old enchantress listened carefully, rubbing her back.

"Do you feel better now?" she asked when Elizabeth was done. Elizabeth nodded. "That's good. I can imagine, travelling with Duncan, you haven't had any chance to let out your feelings."

"Th-thank you, Wynne," Elizabeth said, wiping the rest of her tears away. She had left too quickly to bring any handkerchiefs, but Wynne produced one from the sleeve of her robe. "Thank you for listening. I do f-feel better now."

"I am glad to be of service, dear. You've been traveling hard for a week, bottling all these things inside you, and right now tension is running high in the camp, which can't help at all. It's all right to take a break now and then."

Elizabeth blew her nose again, then refolded the handkerchief and offered it back to Wynne, who refused it. "Oh, no, dear, you might need it again. Keep it."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "Now I should go find Warden Alistair."

"Alistair?" Wynne asked and chuckled. "That scamp. He is probably giving someone grief with his antics up in the ruined chapel. Good luck with you, Elizabeth."

"Thank you, Wynne."

Her eyes and nose were probably still bright red from weeping, but there was no help for that. Duncan's half-hour deadline was drawing near and she still hadn't met any of the other recruits or this Alistair.

She spotted the ruined chapel quickly enough, and headed up the hill towards it.

There were two men, one lounging and darkhaired and armed with a bow and a knife, the other standing at attention with extremely short red hair and armed with a massive two-hander sword, near the entrance. The lounging one caught sight of her and looked her up and down in a way that made her uncomfortable. "Well, you're not what I thought you'd be."

She gave him a tired glare. "And what might that be?"

"A woman, but here you are. Glad you finally showed up, I was beginning to think they made up this ritual just to put us on a bit."

"Daveth!" reprimanded the other man. "Do show some manners. My lady, my name is Jory, and this rapscallion is named Daveth. I suppose Daveth's incredulity is warranted; we've not seen any women in the Grey Wardens so far. Do I guess correctly that you are the third recruit?"

"My name is Elizabeth," said she, "and I guess I am the third recruit."

"Don't you know?" Daveth asked. "Are you daft?"

"No," she said quietly. "My entire family was murdered a week ago and I still haven't come to terms with it, let alone becoming a Grey Warden."

"I'm terribly sorry for your loss," Jory said. "My family is still in Highever. I was a knight there, before my recruiting, you see, though originally I'm from Redcliffe. If it's any consolation, we know very little about being Grey Wardens either. Or about the ritual."

"I was listening to a couple Wardens last night," Daveth said. "They didn't know I was there… I think they're planning to send us into the Wilds."

"That sounds dangerous," Jory said. "Just us? Aren't there darkspawn out there?"

Daveth shrugged. "I grew up near here. It's a bit spooky, for sure. There's tales of cannibals, beasts, witches, and now darkspawn. Duncan did say it would be dangerous. But I doubt we'll have to go far."

"I will watch your back if you watch mine," Elizabeth offered, attempting to be more friendly.

Daveth leered. "Oh, I'll watch your back, sweetheart."

"Daveth!" scolded Jory. "Anyway, all of those things sound frightening, but it's probably the darkspawn that are the most frightening. That's why I'm eager to become a Warden."

"Facing your fears, eh, Jory?" Daveth jerked a thumb at the former knight. "This guy's got high ideals. Me, I just want to get away from the stuff Duncan rescued me from." He chuckled. "He recruited me for picking his pocket."

"And you, my lady?" asked Jory. "Surely you have found some reason to wish to become a Grey Warden."

She glanced away. "I don't know. All I want is revenge on Arl Howe. That has nothing to do with being a Warden."

"Arl Howe murdered your family?" Jory's eyes popped in surprise. "That is a turn of events! What is your family name?"

She hesitated a little. "Cousland."

Jory immediately bowed low. "My lady Elizabeth! We are most honoured to have you among us." Then what she had said suddenly added up to him, and he straightened up in alarm. "Arl Howe murdered Teyrn Cousland!?"

"It is true," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "I believe my parents are dead, though Duncan helped me escape before I witnessed their end – or shared in it. But your family is probably safe. I don't think Howe touched the city."

"That is a relief to hear," he said. "I am so terribly sorry, my lady. Teyrn Cousland was good to us."

"Thank you," she said. "But from what little Duncan has told me, Grey Wardens give up their past lives. I will not be a Cousland much longer, only one of your companions."

"Maker's teeth, a noblewoman for a Warden," Daveth whistled. "Interesting times. Hope you can fight!"

"She impressed Duncan, and that's good enough for me," Jory told him. "Is there any way I might help you?"

"I was told Warden Alistair was in this place," she said, gesturing to the chapel.

"I do not know," Jory said regretfully. "I will go and check."

"No, that's fine," she said. "I can do it."

"Independent lass, isn't she?" Daveth said as she passed him.

"That's what they say about Lady Elizabeth," Jory said. "She's a wonderful woman. So sad to see her here under such circumstances…"

She left the prattling knight behind and climbed the stairs to the chapel. There were two men there, a plump, red-faced mage, and a tall, armoured man.

"I will not be harrassed by Her Reverence in such a manner!" snarled the mage.

"Yes, because delivering messages is harrassment," drawled the knight.

"Your glibness does you no credit," said the mage, turned to walk away.

"And here I thought we were getting along so well! I was going to name one of my children after you. _The grumpy one_."

"Argh! I will speak to the woman if I must! Out of my way!" He stormed past Elizabeth, almost knocking into her.

"You know what I _love_ about the Blight?" asked the knight, turning to Elizabeth. "Is how it brings people together." His light brown eyes sparkled with mischief and irritation.

She did not laugh at his sarcasm, though in better times it would have amused her terribly. "Are you Warden Alistair?"

"Indeed I am. And you are?"

"You are a very strange man."

"You're not the first woman to tell me that," he said, and laughed. "But seriously, have we met before?"

"No," she said. "We have not. My name is Elizabeth. I'm Duncan's… newest recruit."

"Ah! Good to meet you. I'm to go with you when you prepare for your Joining!"

"So I hear," she said. "I don't suppose there is anything more you can tell me about it."

"Honestly, I can't. So try not to worry about it, it's just distracting. You know what, there have never been many women in the Grey Wardens. I wonder why not?"

She shrugged, not really interested in the matter.

"Hey, I'm not a drooling lech, please don't take it that way. I just… think it would be nice to have some around, you know? Right now it's kind of a boys' club. Not that I'm complaining about that either, just… I'm going to shut up now."

She blinked at him.

"So… ah… have you ever actually faced darkspawn?"

"No. …Have you?"

"When I faced my first, I wasn't prepared for just how monstrous it was. I don't much like the thought of fighting them on a regular basis. Here, let's go back to Duncan. He said we should get started after I completed my errand, and now I have completed it."

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "I shall follow you."

They headed back down into the camp, and Daveth and Ser Jory joined them. Duncan was building a fire outside his tent, and straightened as they approached. "Greetings, all of you. We may now get started. …Assuming, of course, you're finished riling up the mages, Alistair."

"What can I say?" Alistair said, smirking. "The Revered Mother ambushed me. The way she weilds guilt, she should be in the army."

"She forced you to sass Mage Caldurin, is that it? Alistair, we cannot afford to antagonize anyone or give them more ammunition against us."

Alistair bowed his head. "I apologize, Duncan."

"At any rate, you four will be heading into the Korcari Wilds. Your tasks are twofold. You three are each to fill one of these vials with darkspawn blood." He handed them three glass vials, of considerable size. Elizabeth felt slightly disgusted by the prospect. "Alistair is accompanying you as the most junior member of the order, as is tradition. But I have another task for you, Alistair. There is an old archive in the Wilds, abandoned when we could no longer afford to keep such remote outposts. I want you to find it and gather any documents that may still exist. The important ones will have been magically sealed for protection."

"Any in particular I should look for?" Alistair asked.

"A copy of the old treaties is perhaps the most important thing. But bring back all that you can. It may be a fool's errand, and yet it would help us a great deal."

"Why would something so valuable be left behind?"

"It was assumed in the past that we would return soon… A great many things were assumed that have not held true."

"I see," Alistair said. "How am I going to find this archive?"

"It's a large Tevinter ruin, somewhere to the southwest on a large hill surrounded by marsh."

"It's not too far, is it?"

"Not more than an hour of travel, though you will be slowed if you encounter darkspawn."

"I'll be able to find it," Alistair said confidently.

"Maker watch over you. I will see you when you return."

"Right!" said Alistair, and led them towards the far gate. The guard let them out, not before shaking his head sadly at the crazy Grey Wardens who were braving the Korcari Wilds, and they marched into the forest.

"All right," Daveth said. "Which way do we go, oh fearless leader?"

"Wait, I'm not the leader," Alistair said. "That's up to one of you. I'm just here to supervise, and make sure we don't run into the darkspawn horde."

"All right, then, what about you, ser knight?"

"I don't know about this," Ser Jory said, looking a bit more apprehensive than was perhaps necessary.

Daveth rolled his eyes and looked at Elizabeth. "Your ladyship?"

She stared back at him with disinterest.

The ex-thief sighed and stomped to the head of the party. "Well, since none of you seem to have a lick of sense between you, I guess I'm in charge. We march that way!"

"What did you mean by making sure we don't run into the darkspawn horde?" Jory asked Alistair.

"Ah, Grey Wardens have the ability to sense darkspawn. Conversely, they also have the ability to sense large numbers of Grey Wardens… but I'm only one Warden, so we should be fine."

"See, we're all going to die, but at least we'll know about it beforehand." Daveth cackled mirthlessly.

They headed deeper between the trees on a faint trail, the men talking perhaps a bit more loudly than was wise. Elizabeth walked with them but said nothing. She was missing Huan dearly. She could have taken on any number of darkspawn if only her loyal dog was by her side…

"Ah! There!" Alistair pointed ahead to where the path led between two outcroppings of dirt; a tree had fallen over them forming a bridge, and dead bodies hung from it. "That's a darkspawn ambush waiting to happen."

"Should we go around?" Ser Jory asked. "I realize we need this darkspawn blood, but surely an ambush is a bad idea…"

"Don't be a pansy," Daveth grunted, pulling his bow from his back. "A few arrows should flush them out of hiding. Where do you think they'll be, Warden?"

"I'd suggest those bushes, personally. But I'm not a darkspawn so I couldn't say for sure…"

Daveth fired, and was rewarded with a shrieking gurgle – and then at least a dozen hideous dirty monsters burst out of the undergrowth.

Elizabeth had never seen a darkspawn and like Alistair had said, she was unprepared for the experience. They grinned and gibbered at the humans with sharp teeth in ape-like faces, with glaring little eyes. Some of them were tall and lean, and others were short and squat, but they were all strongly muscled. Some carried dirty blades; some fired arrows back at the little group. Daveth swore.

And Elizabeth was countercharging, plunging recklessly ahead of the men, her sword flashing in the weak light of the sun. She bulled into the first darkspawn with her shield and knocked it down. Adrenaline was surging through her, and… anger? She didn't understand it, but if it fueled her blows with more force, if it gave her the strength to kill, she would be as angry as she needed to be.

This was much easier than fighting humans.

"Maker's breath, what are you doing!?" Alistair cried, rushing up to stand shoulder to shoulder with her.

The darkspawn were terrifying opponents. Besides their monstrous appearance, they were horribly strong and every one of them fought like a cornered animal. But she was better. Wasn't she?

She stabbed another one in the throat and dodged its neighbour. Another one was taking a swing at her but jerked backwards, an arrow in its face.

Jory was on the other side of her, his two-hander making short work of several darkspawn at once. Another dirty blade came flashing at her and she flinched, blocking instinctively. She definitely didn't want to get hit by these swords. She traded blows with that monster, then took its sword on her shield and lunged in for a killing blow. They were attempting to flank the humans, but that meant the darkspawn archers were vulnerable, and if she could kill them, it would be that much less dangerous.

She staggered back from the blow of a monster's shield, slammed her own shield against a short one, and darted forward to hit the archers with everything she had.

.

When the last darkspawn had been slain, Alistair walked over to her, cleaning his sword. "So, uh… any particular reason you did that? That charging thing?"

She shrugged, pulling barb-headed arrows out of her shield. "I didn't feel like delaying combat and letting myself get more scared. And the closer I am to the archers, the sooner I can kill them."

"Well, I think you were very brave… and also very reckless. Do try not to get separated from us, all right?"

She said nothing, but her lips tightened and her chin raised, just a little.

 _What are you doing?_ her mind told her. _You have no battle experience and they do. You have no time to wallow like an emotional little girl. Stop being a fool because you were scolded justly, and follow their example._

Her head dropped. "I'm sorry," she said. "I won't do it anymore."

"It's okay," Alistair said quickly, smiling warmly at her. "Like I said, you are very brave. Just wait for us, all right?"

She nodded, and reached up to check that her hair was still in its twin braided buns, out of the way.

But it was time for the messy business of getting darkspawn blood into her vial. Alistair stood watch while she wrestled with a heavy, armoured corpse and her knife, and wondered if cursing really made things easier, though she said nothing. The others were not having an easier time than she was, either.

The vial was mostly full after a few minutes, and her hands and the vial were dripping with foul-smelling black blood. It had been spattered all over her armour from fighting, but she looked around to see if there was a pool of water nearby where she could wash. Even if it were icy, she would rather freeze her hands than have that blood soaking them for an instant longer than necessary.

When everything was ready, they set out again. They still had a long way to go before they reached the archives.

.

They had fought darkspawn several more times before they saw a hill of stone rising out of the muddy forest. Jory had admiringly said she was as strong as a mabari, and that lightened her expression a bit.

They arrived at the ruin on the hill and entered through the broken gate. The entire roof had fallen in, and any furniture had rotted away long ago in the damp climate.

"I'm not sure how the documents might be sealed," Alistair said as they spread out to look around. "Probably in a chest of some kind? Give a shout if you find anything."

They had searched fruitlessly for perhaps twenty minutes when Ser Jory turned towards the entrance and gave a yelp. Daveth looked up, hissed, and came to stand next to Jory, glaring at the woman who stood there.

"Well, well, what have we here?" asked the woman. "Vultures? Scavengers poking amidst the bones of a corpse long-since picked clean? Or only intruders, come into these darkspawn-filled Wilds of mine looking for easy prey?"

"Neither!" Alistair snapped. "We are Grey Wardens and this is a Warden tower."

"Easy," Daveth muttered. "She's a witch. She'll turn us all into toads!"

"'Tis a tower no longer," the woman said. "The Wilds claimed this desiccated corpse long ago." Her tone was an odd mixture of arrogant, knowing, and curious. She began to walk closer to them, slowly, almost sashaying. Her peculiar clothes – and lack of clothes, especially on the upper half of her body, in the cold autumn weather, caught Elizabeth's eye. "I have watched your progress for some time. 'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'and why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

The men had all drawn away from her as she approached. "Don't answer her," Daveth whispered. "She looks Chasind, and that means there might be more of them about. Or the witch thing I mentioned before."

"Chasind?" Ser Jory asked.

"The native peoples," Daveth said.

"It's none of your business," Alistair said, frowning for the first time Elizabeth had known him.

"You are afraid barbarians will swoop down on you?" the woman said, mockingly, sweeping out her arms in an illustrating gesture.

"Yes, swooping is bad," Alistair snarked back.

The woman rolled her eyes. "You spend too much time thinking about idle fancies and foolish legends." She turned her attention away from the men and squarely to Elizabeth. "You there. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

Elizabeth met her gaze. This woman was a person like the rest of them, whether she was dangerous or not. "My name is Elizabeth. It is a pleasure to meet you."

She smiled. "Now that is a proper civil greeting, even out here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan. May I guess your purpose? You sought something that was kept here, something which is here no longer. Documents, perhaps?"

"You mean you stole them! You're… some kind of… sneaky… witch-thief!" Alistair burst out.

Morrigan snorted with amusement. "How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?"

"Quite easily, it seems. Those documents are Grey Warden property, and I suggest you return them."

"I will not, for it was not I who took them," Morrigan retorted. "Invoke a dead name if you wish; I am not threatened."

"May I ask if you know who it was?" Elizabeth said, attempting to take over her allies' side of the conversation. It seemed to go more smoothly when Morrigan spoke with her.

"'Twas my mother, in fact."

"May we meet her?"

"What? Are you crazy?" Daveth whispered to her.

Morrigan walked towards Elizabeth until they were only a few feet apart. "If you wish it, I can take you to see her. 'Tis not far from here, and you may ask her for your papers yourself." Morrigan's golden eyes stared coolly into Elizabeth's blue-grey ones.

"I would be most grateful," Elizabeth said. "Though may I ask why you would wish to help us?"

"Why not? I do not meet many people, and it is something amusing to do."

"I am willing to go with you," Elizabeth said.

"Follow me, then, if it pleases you," Morrigan said, and turned.

"My lady, you cannot go alone!" Ser Jory cried.

"We'll all end up in the pot, you'll see," Daveth muttered, as Elizabeth began to follow Morrigan out of the ruin and deeper into the Wilds.

"If the pot's warmer than these Wilds, it might be a nice change," Jory said.

.

It was not far, as Morrigan had said – perhaps half an hour from the Warden tower.

"We have to get those documents, but I don't like this. It's too convenient," Alistair muttered to her on the way.

Elizabeth looked at him. "You believe it's a trap?"

"No, but… I definitely don't think we should trust her."

"But until she gives us reason to do otherwise, we may as well be polite to her. It might just get us what we want without further delay."

"You're the one she likes talking to, so I'll try to stay out of the way from now on… but I don't like this."

A moment later, they saw a ramshackle hut, looking like nothing more than several rooms had been thrown together on top of each other and had managed to balance by sheer stubbornness. An old woman with white hair was sitting on the doorstep and rose at their approach.

"Greetings, Mother," Morrigan said to her. "I bring before you four Grey Wardens who…"

"I see them, girl," said the woman. She hummed to herself approvingly. "Much as I expected."

"Are you expecting us to believe you were expecting us?" Daveth inquired incredulously.

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe," the old woman retorted. "Shut one's eyes tight or open one's arms wide… Either way, one is a fool!"

"In any case, we do not wish to make you mad," Jory said, nudging Daveth.

"That's a smart lad… sadly irrelevant in the grand scheme of things, though it is not I who decides…" She turned to Elizabeth, eyeing her much the way Morrigan had earlier. "And what of you? What do you believe?"

Elizabeth was surprised by the question. "I… would rather not be a fool. I… I'm afraid I'm not sure I understand the question…"

"Hmm. So much about you is yet uncertain. But I believe in you. Do I? Why, it seems I do!"

Elizabeth blinked.

"So this is a Witch of the Wilds?" Alistair murmured to her.

The old woman heard him. "Witch of the Wilds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it. Oh, how she dances under the moon!" She cackled.

"Mother, please," Morrigan said, a slight blush tinging her pale cheeks. "They did not come to listen to your wild stories."

"True, they came for their treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious protective seals wore off long ago. I have preserved these." She stepped forward, and handed a small tote of old parchment to Elizabeth.

"You… oh. You protected them?" Alistair asked in a rather small voice.

"And why not?" the old woman challenged him. "Take that to your Commander and tell him that this Blight's threat is greater than he realizes!"

"Thank you very much," Elizabeth said. "We shall certainly tell him."

"Well, time for you to go, then," Morrigan said, beginning to make shooing motions.

"Do not be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests."

Morrigan sighed. "Oh, very well. I shall show you out of the woods. Come, follow me."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, bowing slightly. "If someday I can repay you, I shall."

Morrigan might have rolled her eyes, or she might have smiled, or she might have done both.

In any case, Elizabeth had much to think about on the way back, and the men were silent too, wary of the woman who guided them with sure feet through the tangled forest.

Perhaps her eyes had been shut tightly against everything but the past that she carried in her heart like a locked cage of lead. She would rather act in the other way, opening her arms to those who needed her strength. That was what she had done up until now, hadn't it? She had to regain that sense, even though everything had changed around her. If she was to be a Grey Warden, she would be one with as much compassion as she could muster. It seemed to be no less a responsibility than that of a bann or arlessa.

.

They arrived back at camp without incident; Morrigan's directions led them slyly past any new darkspawn patrols that might have come since they had set out. It was getting dark in the sky, and soon, Alistair said, they wouldn't be able to swing a dead cat without hitting a darkspawn. They went straight to Duncan.

Duncan had gone to the ruined chapel, where, he said, they were less likely to be disturbed.

"Why are there not more Grey Wardens here?" Elizabeth asked Alistair. "I would have thought it a deed to be witnessed by the order as a whole…"

"Not so, it's actually very private. The Commander – that's Duncan, in Ferelden – has to oversee and administrate, but it's really just the recruits and a couple members. I'm just helping out, normally I wouldn't be here either."

"I'm not very sure about this," Elizabeth said. "I'm only here because I have nowhere else to go."

"Unfortunately, the Wardens are clear about this… you're not volunteering for this. Whether you were recruited or conscripted, you were chosen because you were needed. Keeping the world free of darkspawn is more important than any personal thoughts. So, have courage, and you'll be fine."

"Courage?" Daveth had been eavesdropping, and he piped up now. "We're still in danger? I thought the hard part was over!"

Duncan himself heard. "I will not lie; we Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decree that you pay your price now rather than later. This is why the ritual must remain so secret."

"Then let's get to it," Daveth said. "I'm eager to see it now."

"I agree," said Jory. "Let's have it done. Though the more I hear about it, the less I like it."

While Daveth and Jory bickered to each other out of nerves, Elizabeth stood by herself and tried to calm herself. The suspense was making her heart race.

"All I know is that my wife is with child in Highever. If they had warned me… it just doesn't seem fair."

"That's probably why they don't," retorted Daveth. "They'd scare away all their recruits if they did that, wouldn't they? They do what they must."

"Including sacrificing us?" demanded Jory.

"I'd sacrifice a lot more if it meant stopping the Blight," Daveth said. "You saw those darkspawn, ser knight. Wouldn't you gladly die if it meant your pretty wife would be safe from them?"

"I…" Ser Jory looked at his feet. "I just never faced an enemy I could not defeat with my blade before."

"Yeah, maybe you'll die. Maybe we'll all die. But if nobody faces the darkspawn, we'll all die for sure."

"The Joining is ready," Duncan said, turning towards them. "The Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. So it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood and mastered its taint."

Ser Jory blanched. "Of those… creatures?"

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, and as we did before you. This is the source of our power and victory. Those who survive the Joining become immune to the taint. We can use it to sense darkspawn and slay the Archdemon who leads them."

"Those who survive?" Elizabeth asked, low but clear.

"Not all those who drink the blood survive," Alistair said. "And those who do are forever changed. That's why it's so secret. It's the price we pay."

"Alistair, would you say the words of Joining?" Duncan raised a large silver chalice, slightly filled with black blood.

Alistair bowed his head. "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand, vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten and we shall join you one day."

Duncan looked across the row of three recruits, evaluating them somehow. "Daveth, step forward. From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

Daveth's eyes glittered. He reached for the chalice eagerly and raised it to his lips.

He managed to hand it back to Duncan before, he reached for his throat, coughing violently and groaning in pain.

Duncan's forehead creased in concern. "I am sorry, Daveth."

Daveth collapsed on the ground, convulsing. His last cough spewed blood from his lips and he lay still.

"Jory, step forward," Duncan said, wiping the rim of the chalice and refilling it with the second vial. "From this moment forth…"

Jory's eyes darted around, looking for an escape route, his hand going to his sword. "B-but I have a wife. A child! Had I known…"

"There is no turning back," Duncan said sternly.

"No!" Jory cried, drawing his sword fully, backing against a white pillar. "You ask too much! There is no honour in this!"

Duncan's face was regretful for the briefest of instances, and then he handed the goblet to Alistair and drew his long redsteel knife.

Elizabeth turned away. She did not want to see this. But she heard enough; the clash of weapons, Jory giving an agonized grunt, the slump of a limp body.

"I am sorry," Duncan said softly.

There was a pause, and then he said. "Step forward, Elizabeth. From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

She looked around, from one corpse to the other, of men who not five minutes ago had been alive and well, and at Duncan, offering her the cursed chalice. Alistair stood by, looking vaguely upset.

If she drank, she might die. If she did not drink, she would die.

With a desperate lunge, she snatched the heavy silver goblet out of his hands and raised it to her lips. Undignified it might be, but she was no longer Lady Cousland in this moment, only a frightened eighteen-year-old girl.

It was metallic and unbelievably bitter, and she felt like throwing up the instant it touched her tongue. Somehow, some of it made it to the back of her throat and she swallowed.

The chalice fell from her suddenly limp hands and Duncan caught it, she supposed – she didn't hear it hit the ground. The blood was poison indeed, coursing through her veins like fire, her heart pounding to drive it along. She heard a demonic voice whispering in her ears and her eyes rolled back in her head as she fell backwards. The voice grew to a scream and she had a sudden, intense vision of a great black dragon. She didn't feel herself land.

.

.

She half woke some time later, and sensed someone beside her. Dazedly, she turned her head, and saw Alistair, twiddling his thumbs next to her cot.

Her movement startled him, and he jumped a little. "Hello! Ah… feeling all right?"

"No," she croaked.

He grimaced and shrugged sympathetically. "Right, right. It's a pretty rough sequence even if you survive. I was woozy and ill for _hours_ after mine. Just rest for now."

She tried to do as he said, but now her mind was awake, reeling through the aftereffects of the poison, and all it could think of was that the Grey Warden Joining ceremony was horribly barbaric. There was no question why it was secret. That sort of thing just didn't happen in civilized society!

Two good men were dead through the whims of fate and the Grey Wardens' implacable decree.

If she survived this battle, she would see Ser Jory's wife and child taken care of. What little resources she had, she would find a way to help them. Even if now she was sworn to silence as surely as if she'd had her tongue cut out. She hated it. It was horribly unfair.

Tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes, spilling over into her ears as she stared at the black, overcast night sky, and she really couldn't stifle her sobs today.

"Oh no, what's the matter?" Alistair asked, leaning over her with an almost comically worried look.

She glanced at him briefly and then returned to staring at the night. She must have been moved to the field hospital. "I feel like I'm cursed. Everywhere I go, people die, and I do not."

"I hope that's not the case," he said. "I'd like to continue living, myself."

"Why is this happening!?" she burst out, a fresh well of tears flooding out.

"I don't know," he said. "Um… you've never seen dead people before, have you?"

"I have, but… not anyone that I knew… Before, maybe some soldiers wouldn't come back from a bandit attack. And now… I'm… all alone, and even my new acquaintances fall dead around me." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ser Jory was right. It isn't fair."

"He should have taken his chances with the cup," Alistair protested. "We can't let people know about the secret, otherwise it's not a secret."

"I know but I don't like it!" She rolled so her back was facing him, with some effort. "Just leave me alone right now."

"Sorry…"

There was a pause, and then he began to speak again, as if to himself. "In my Joining, only one of us died, but it was still horrible… I really don't blame you for your reaction. I'm just glad you survived, at least."

She made a muffled grunting noise, and wisely he left her alone. After a while, she fell asleep again.

.

When she woke again, it was morning, and Alistair was no longer there. She still felt weak, but like she could move on her own power now. A nurse helped her relieve herself and fed her, and after she had eaten she felt up to walking around on her own.

She was stretching when she saw Alistair again. He had a big goofy smile plastered all over his face. "Hello! Good to see you up! You should build up your strength, because we're going to need it tonight! It's a while before we're needed for Cailan's super secret strategy meeting, though."

She nodded to him. "What happens tonight?"

"Why, the big battle, of course! You hadn't forgotten, right?"

"I see. Is my brother back yet?"

"Your brother? Who is he?"

"Fergus Cousland."

"Fergus – you're a Cousland?"

She nodded. "Was a Cousland."

Alistair shrugged, his eyes still wide with the news. "I'm afraid he's not here yet. But I understand you'd want to see him right away. I'll tell the gate guards that if he turns up, at any point before the battle, he's to come and see you as soon as he can."

"Thank you, Alistair."

"Think nothing of it. Eh… do you need any help?"

"With what?"

"Well, you know… getting back on your feet and in fighting shape."

She stopped a moment to consider. Some light sparring would probably help immensely. After a jog around the camp. She was getting stronger by the minute, and she would be ready to fight this evening. Her body still felt like every one of her veins had been burned from the inside, right down to her fingers and toes, and she felt no manifesting Grey Warden powers, but it was true. She was alive, and she would fight the damned Blight.

"Elizabeth?" Alistair was still waiting for her answer.

"Yes," she said slowly. "In a bit. I'm going for a run first. Then… would you like to do some sparring?"

His face lit up as if she'd asked if he'd like a cookie. "Yes, I would like that, in fact. I'll wait here, then." He sat on her cot and stared at her expectantly.

"And I'm going to say hello to my mabari."

"Okay."

"…" She ran out of things to pester him with and went on her run.

By the late afternoon, she was feeling reasonably healthy. The sensitivity of her body hadn't completely gone away still, but she could move and fight as if nothing had happened. Alistair had been very supportive during their sparring match, though his chatter was a bit distracting. She was very grateful that she hadn't been wounded the previous day. That would have complicated things.

Dinner was early, and then King Cailan had his strategy meeting. Elizabeth wondered why she and Alistair were required, since Cailan was also meeting with Teyrn Loghain and many other lords and captains – her brother not among them, she noted with heavy heart – and Duncan.

The meeting was not long, but she soon noticed Alistair was not paying the least attention. She tried to follow along, but most of it had nothing to do with her and was about troop placements and attack patterns for people she didn't know in places she didn't know. Teyrn Loghain seemed to be scowling a lot, and he and Cailan seemed to be disagreeing on a great many things – though Cailan never lost his confident smile.

Suddenly, Duncan's name was spoken, and the senior Grey Warden stood. "Yes, your Majesty?"

"Are your new members ready for their special assignment?" Cailan asked, beaming.

Duncan bowed. "They are. Would you be so good as to explain to them?"

Alistair struggled to his feet as Elizabeth rose to hers, and both bowed in readiness.

"Only the lady is present?"

"The others… did not survive the ordeal."

Teyrn Loghain raised an eyebrow, but Cailan was already rambling on. "That's a pity. The others looked capable as well. But I understand congratulations are in order. Well done! At any rate, you are required to ascend the Tower of Ishal. When we sound the signal, you are to light a beacon there to signal the other wing of the army, led by Loghain, to advance, so we may crush the darkspawn between hammer and anvil!"

Elizabeth glanced at Alistair, and he looked back at her blankly. "I understand, your Majesty, but which signal should we listen for?"

"Ah, you'll want the one that goes tah-ratatataaah… Nothing too complicated; it's an important signal. You'll have about an hour; we want the darkspawn to get good and stuck in our front lines."

"Understood, sire."

"Duncan, I will be joining you and the rest of your Grey Wardens personally."

At this, Loghain finally exploded. "You risk too much, your Majesty! The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to play hero on the front lines!"

Cailan raised an eyebrow. "If it's too dangerous, perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian Wardens after all…?"

"I protest the notion of needing the Orlesians to defend outselves," Loghain growled. "Do not forget that they enslaved us for over a century."

"Our arguments with the Orlesians are a thing of the past," Cailan said. "Do not forget that either."

"Your Majesty is too optimistic," Loghain said, but subsided, though he still glared furiously.

Cailan looked again at Alistair and Elizabeth. "Still, two of you is too few… You will need at least another person to accompany you. Ah! How about Preston? He will do nicely."

"Preston, sire?" Duncan asked.

"A junior mage who probably shouldn't be on the front lines either. He's just a precaution, you understand. I'm not expecting any trouble for your students." Cailan's eyes sparkled. "I cannot wait! The Grey Wardens battle alongside the King of Ferelden to stem the tide of evil! Oh, this will be glorious!"

.

"Aww," Alistair said as they left the meeting. It was beginning to rain. "I wanted to be in the big battle beside Duncan."

"This is at the King's personal request, Alistair," Duncan said. "It's vitally important. If the beacon is not lit, Teyrn Loghain's men won't know when to charge."

"I know, but… he needs two Grey Wardens and a mage standing up there and holding the torch? Just in case?" Alistair sounded more sarcastic than anxious.

"Ser," Elizabeth said, "would my dog be allowed to join me? We… fight well together. I know the king's army has many mabari."

"I will ask the houndmaster."

"And I had another question… what if the archdemon arrives?"

"We soil our drawers, that's what," Alistair snorted.

"If that occurs, leave it to us," Duncan said. "I want no heroics from either of you." He looked towards the camp exit, where men were streaming out. "I must join the others. Remember, you are both Grey Wardens. Be worthy of the title."

Elizabeth's lips tightened just a little, but Alistair nodded firmly. "Maker watch over you, Duncan."

"May He watch over us all," Duncan replied, and walked swiftly towards the kennels.

Alistair and Elizabeth set out the other way. "Well," said Alistair, "it's either going to be horribly exciting, or horribly dull."

"I wonder where we'll meet Preston," Elizabeth said, but a bark from behind her made her stop and turn. "Huan! Good boy. Gooood boy." Huan frolicked around her and scratched his ear.

"That's a… nice… mabari," Alistair said hesitantly.

"Isn't he?" Elizabeth said. "He's my closest friend. He'll make sure we get up the Tower safely."

"Uh-huh," Alistair said doubtfully. She chose to ignore the doubt and pressed onward across the bridge to the other fortress. Ranks of archers were lined up at the rail of the bridge, and many ballistas were stretched taut, ready only for the order to fire.

"Quickly, we only have an hour," she said over her shoulder.

"Coming, coming."

A thin, nervous-looking young man was waiting for them at the far end of the bridge. "Thank goodness you're here!"

"Are you Preston?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yes. I was worried I'd have to climb the Tower of Ishal all alone…"

"Have no fear," Elizabeth said. "We are your companions. This is Alistair, and my name is Elizabeth. And this is my mabari, Huan."

"N-nice to meet you," Preston said. "Uh, I don't know if you care, but my specialty is Fire, though I know some Lightning and Entropy spells as well."

"I don't know what to do with this information," Alistair told him. "Do what you please as long as you don't light us on fire, all right?"

"R-right!"

"I think it's this way to the Tower," Alistair said, leading them onwards. They headed to the left, through a forest of broken pillars, until they reached a high arched door flanked by two guards.

"We're the Grey Wardens assigned to the Tower," he said to them, and they saluted and opened the door for them.

"Take care," said one of them.

"Why, anything wrong in there?" Preston asked, clutching his mage's staff.

"Just in case," said the guard. "There's a battle going on, after all."

"Thanks," said Alistair, maybe sarcastically, maybe not – Elizabeth couldn't tell.

They entered the tower, which was built rather like a honeycomb – a large central chamber ringed with smaller ones. To get to the stairs, they would have to cross the large central chamber, Alistair explained. In fact, they would have to cross the tower on every level – built that way, supposedly, to make it difficult to capture.

"Fortunately, we don't have to capture it," he said cheerfully. "There's only three of us, after all." Huan barked. "Er… three and a half." Huan growled. "Fine! Four of us."

But now, halfway across the central chamber, Huan was sniffing and growling at the way ahead.

"What's the matter?" Elizabeth asked her dog. "Is there danger?"

He barked.

"Yes, I suppose it would be a good idea to ready weapons," Alistair began, and then a bestial howl drowned him out.

Darkspawn began charging at them – not so many as they had fought in the woods, but there were darkspawn in the Tower, and that was not part of the plan.

Preston yelped and cast a massive fireball, blowing most of the attackers away and setting the rest on fire to varying degrees. Huan leapt forward and dragged another to the ground, and Alistair and Elizabeth made short work of the rest.

"Maker's breath! What are darkspawn doing here!?" Alistair sputtered. "There wasn't supposed to be any resistance!"

"I don't know," Elizabeth said. "I don't know how they could have gotten past the armies. Or even the guards."

"You c-could try telling them they're in the wrong place?" Preston suggested.

"Riiight," Alistair drawled. "Because this is clearly all just a misunderstanding. We'll laugh about it later."

"We must press on," Elizabeth said. "It will take much longer to reach the top of the tower if we must fight for every step."

"Yes, of course," Preston said. "We're right behind you."

Huan barked, already at the top of the next flight of stairs.

There were monsters on every floor, not enough to stop them, but more than enough to slow them down. Elizabeth, having been startled by Preston's first fireball, now watched carefully to see that he was pointing his spells well away from her before she charged recklessly to battle.

Magic was an immensely useful asset, it seemed. She didn't know that much about mages except what her tutor had taught her, and while she had seen a few in her short lifetime, she had never seen magic in battle. For now, all she could do was keep her head down around it, keep Preston's unarmoured self safe from the darkspawn, try to keep Huan from getting in the line of his spells, and set her sword and shield to thrust and parry and kill the darkspawn.

They had cleared the penultimate floor when Huan looked suddenly at the ceiling. Elizabeth followed his gaze and frowned.

"What is it?" asked Alistair.

"Shh," she said. "Listen."

The ceiling quivered, and the sound of heavy footsteps thudded through the tower.

Alistair's eyes widened. "I hope that's not what I think it is."

"What do you think it is?"

"A troll."

"A troll!?" Preston's voice cracked.

"Or an ogre. Probably an ogre."

"Hip hip huzzah," Elizabeth said flatly. "Let's kill it. I'm sure we're late."

"Have you never seen an ogre?" Alistair blurted out. "Silly question. Of course you haven't. I've seen one, from a distance, and… I'm not sure how we're going to fight it."

"We distract it, and let Preston blast it with magic," she said. "Got that, boy?"

Huan barked happily.

"O-okay," Preston said. "I can do that. Just keep it away from me; I won't survive even a tap from something that big."

She nodded and turned to the stairs.

The ogre, or so she assumed it was, was on the other side of the room from the stairs, devouring the corpse of an unfortunate soldier. Four darkspawn were milling around, but when they saw the humans, they set up a screeching and charged at them.

"We need to take the small ones first!" Alistair shouted.

"Hold on!" Preston cried, and a bolt of lightning cracked from his staff, striking three of the four. One of them dropped dead, and the others fell over and twitched for a moment before getting back up. That was all the time Elizabeth and Alistair needed.

By this time, the ogre was well aware of them, and Alistair squawked when he realized just how close it had gotten. The Tower-top was not that wide, and it had closed the gap far too quickly for Elizabeth's liking; its pace was slow, but its legs were long, and she had the feeling that if it managed to get enough room and momentum for a charge, it would be like trying to stop a bull.

"Preston, go!" she shouted. "We'll hold it off."

"Right!" The thin mage sprinted off, kiting around the circular space to flank the ogre so he could cast spells without hitting Alistair, Elizabeth, or Huan.

Elizabeth gazed up at the hulking brute in gaping-mouthed fright; it was at least twice as tall as she was, with a symmetrical cluster of giant horns that made it taller still. If she had to try to wrap her arms around its leg, she might have been able to join her hands on the other side… maybe. It had an ugly darkspawn face with large, jagged teeth, and it roared at her, sending flecks of spittle, blood, and flesh pattering against her shield. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked, almost overhead, illuminating the monster with weird blue-white light.

She realized that she was trembling.

"Easy," Alistair said. "It's easier to counterattack these than to attack it, if I remember correctly. Try to stay out of its reach, though! It can crush you with one hand."

"R-right," she said, and pressed her lips together harder to try to master her fear.

The ogre decided it was done roaring and erupted into a flurry of punches; each blow of its fist made the air whistle. Elizabeth gasped and backed away, keeping just beyond its reach. Huan growled and barked, circling it, trying to figure out the best way to attack it. On its other side, Alistair shouted as he attacked, his sword swinging at the creature's arm.

It lit up with a yellow-white glow for an instant. "It should be a bit weaker now!" Preston yelled to them breathlessly.

"Thanks!" Alistair said, ducking another punch.

The ogre looked away from Elizabeth, focusing now on Alistair, who now began to back away – but not quickly enough. A strike from its fist struck his shield square on, shattering it and sending him tumbling away.

Elizabeth cried out and moved to attack, striking out with her own sword. It almost bounced off the ogre's tough hide, but she hadn't begun her training yesterday; her father's sword sliced into the thick leathery skin and sent a gout of blood over her arm. The ogre bellowed, but it didn't seem terribly inconvenienced by the wound. It whirled, and a giant hand closed around her waist, plucking her effortlessly from the ground. She screamed.

"Whoa there!" A bolt of white light flashed in front of her, striking the ogre's face, and it roared again, dropping her to claw at its eyes. She landed, winded, and rolled on the slick wet stone floor. "Are you okay!?" called Preston.

She took a shaky breath. "Yes, thank you."

Huan was worrying the creature's knees, now, and the monster was attempting to stomp on her dog, still half-blind from Preston's spell. Alistair was climbing to his feet, testing his arm with a pained face – but his arm didn't seem broken. Thank the Maker for Preston's weakening spell.

Attacking its arms and legs was foolishness. It must have weak points… but those would probably be its face and chest, and those were behind its deadly embrace.

Perhaps if she could climb on it from behind, and cut its throat?

A hysterical giggle worked its way out of her throat. That was madness. It would be like climbing a very angry tree. She wasn't ready to do that, even if she had an idea for how to get so high. Maybe Alistair could give her a boost…

"I'm ready!" Preston cried. "Call your dog off, or he'll get zapped!"

"Huan!" Elizabeth called, and whistled.

Preston gave a shout, and a giant bolt of blue lightning shot from his staff and struck the ogre in the head. It froze, twitching, as its body was wreathed in blue arcs. Alistair, Elizabeth, and Huan backed away slowly as it swayed in place, sparks popping from its skin. It grunted, and slowly toppled over onto its face.

Elizabeth sagged, bracing her hands against her knees. "Is it dead…?"

Alistair reached to poke it with its sword.

"Wait!" Preston said. "Your metal sword will only get you electrocuted. Let me… Ah… on second thought, take my staff."

Alistair took the wooden staff and prodded the ogre gently in the head. It didn't move.

"I think I will burn it just to be safe," Preston said.

"After we light the beacon would be best," Elizabeth said, recovering herself. "We're late already. I'm sure it's been more than an hour." She looked around and saw a large pile of wood, all ready for them, while Huan gently headbutted her hand, begging for praise. "The guards must have prepared this for us."

"I'll take care of that, then…" Preston directed a gesture at the pile of wood, and it burst into a gout of flame, reaching high into the stormy sky. Elizabeth rushed to the parapet to see what was happening in the battle. It was very hard to tell from that height; all she could see were tiny pinpricks of light from torches, and occasionally the brightly-coloured flare of a spell of some kind. But surely… wasn't that Teyrn Loghain's army? The placement, from what she remember of the strategy meeting, was correct… But they were not charging into battle… They were marching away from it!

Suddenly, she felt something like a punch in the arm, and gasped – then gave a small scream as she looked down and saw a long arrow piercing her arm. She whirled and saw darkspawn pouring up from the stairs, most of them aiming bows at the little group.

She tried to flail her shield off her back and into position, tried to get over to vulnerable Preston, but she was too late. Another arrow caught her in the stomach in a gap between two plates and she fell. Her vision blurred from pain and she fainted.


	3. Lothering

Author's note: the logistics in the writing in this game is pretty terrible. I've made some effort to make it more realistic (if you don't poke it too hard).

.

Lothering

.

Elizabeth sniffed and frowned before she had even opened her eyes. There was the scent of woodsmoke in her nostrils, and food, and wood, and greenery.

"M-mother…" she began. "Nan…?"

Her eyes popped open. She had the distinct memory of seeing arrows in her arm and her gut, but neither of those places hurt. Had it all been a dream?

Weakly, she stirred, dragging her left arm from under the covers to inspect it. There was a bandage, but it was a remarkably small one, and there was nothing bleeding through. She felt her stomach, where she encountered the same – and then she gave a little stifled shriek of outrage as she realized that she was in her underthings.

"Your eyes finally open," Morrigan's voice called lightly over her consternation. "Mother shall be pleased." The black-haired woman appeared at Elizabeth's bedside, one hand on her cocked hip, smiling with satisfaction.

"M-morrigan…?" Elizabeth stammered in surprise, covering herself with the blanket. "What am I doing… here? What happened to the battle?"

"You were injured," Morrigan said, as if it were so obvious only an idiot would not have realized that, "and Mother rescued you. Do you not remember?"

Elizabeth frowned. "I remember being wounded… with arrows… but being rescued? Not at all. How did she do that? We were at the top of the Tower of Ishal, and there were so many darkspawn…"

"Mother managed to save you and your strange friend," Morrigan said slowly. "It was a close call, I believe, though what is important is that you both live."

"But I was with two men, and my dog…"

"I know nothing of another man. Perhaps she was too late to save him."

"But how…"

"She turned into a giant bird and plucked the two of you from atop the Tower, one in each talon," Morrigan said, and it was impossible to tell from her tone if she were serious, or mocking Elizabeth. "If you do not believe that, then I suggest you ask Mother yourself. She may even tell you," and Morrigan's smile was definitely mocking.

"Are we safe here?"

"From the darkspawn? For the moment. Mother's magic keeps them away. The main bulk of the horde has moved on, so you will probably avoid them when you leave here."

Elizabeth thought for a while. No matter how Morrigan's mother had saved them, they were now definitely in the swamp, probably in that ramshackle hut she had seen a couple days before.

Her stomach grumbled at smelling good food and not eating any, and Morrigan busied herself at the fire. Soon, Elizabeth was sitting up in the cot she had been lying in, and eating a bowl of stew. Her two braids were out of their buns, hanging down her back, and she had drawn up the blanket to her chest – not that she thought Morrigan cared about her modesty, not the way that the wild woman dressed, with little more than a scarf or shawl draped over her bra.

Now she was full of questions. "What happened to the battle after we lit our signal?"

"The man who was to respond to your signal… quit the field," Morrigan told her with some reluctance, seated beside the cot on a low three-legged stool. "The darkspawn won your battle. Those who remained were massacred."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Every one?"

"Those who escaped are far away by now. You would not wish to see what is happening in that valley now."

"Why?"

"Do you wish me to describe is? 'Tis a grisly scene, and you are eating…"

Elizabeth braced herself. "…Yes, I want to know."

"I had a good view of the battlefield this morning… Darkspawn swarm over every corpse… feeding, I believe… If they do find a survivor, they are dragged below ground."

"Why is that?" Elizabeth asked, swallowing hard.

"I could not say. Full of questions, are we?"

"Yes… So Teyrn Loghain left the battle? I suppose the king did not survive…?"

"No, I don't think so. I would have rescued him over you, personally. A king fetches a much higher ransom than a pair of Grey Wardens."

Elizabeth tilted her head. "I happen to have been nobility."

Morrigan chuckled. "You would say thus to someone who threatens to ransom you?"

"I think you like me better than that," Elizabeth said, and while she knew almost nothing of Morrigan, and the woman was extremely hard to read, she believed it to be true.

Morrigan looked taken aback for the briefest instant before she smirked. "Perhaps I do, or perhaps I am only waiting for you to let down your guard so I may turn you into stew. Don't you want to know what happened to your friend?"

Elizabeth shook her head at the implied macabre joke. "Was he injured badly as well?"

"Not as badly as you. But he is taking the loss very hard, and wavers between grief and denial. I believe Mother is outside with him. You may see him, if you are feeling better. And I believe Mother would like to speak with you as well."

Elizabeth passed over her empty bowl. "I am feeling better, but… where are my clothes!?"

Morrigan chuckled. "I will fetch them for you." She might have muttered the word 'prude', but her back was to Elizabeth as she did so, so she was not sure.

Morrigan insisted that she not only dress in her tunic and pants and boots, but also that she put on her armour and weapons, as if she wanted Elizabeth out as soon as possible. Elizabeth obliged, putting her braids up into their twists out of the way, and double checked that she was carrying everything that belonged to her.

"Thank you for helping me, Morrigan," she said, when she was done.

Morrigan hesitated, as if she had not expected that. "I… you are welcome. Though Mother did most of the work. I am no healer."

"I appreciate your kindness, all the same."

Morrigan shrugged. "Mother is waiting."

Elizabeth bowed, uncertain how to respond to Morrigan's uncertainty, and pushed open the front door, which squeaked like a cat being stepped on.

Alistair sat at the edge of the stream outside the house, staring morosely at its waters. Morrigan's mother stood nearby, watching him silently. When she saw Elizabeth, she called to Alistair. "See! Here is your fellow Warden, hale and hearty. You worry too much, young man."

Alistair half turned to look at her, and then got up to face her. His eyes were bleak and red-rimmed, and his voice was husky. "You-you're alive! I thought you were dead for sure. You've been out for two days." There was half-laugh, half-sob at the end of his words.

Elizabeth, though shocked at the news that she had been unconscious for two whole days, thought he was going to embrace her and asked hurriedly: "Were you badly injured?"

"Not that badly, but I hit my head," he said, rubbing it. "Though… it no longer hurts," he admitted. "I was just so worried for you… to be gut-shot is a death sentence, normally."

"I'm fine now," she said gently. "Tell me what has happened."

"Duncan's dead," he said, and his chest heaved with the attempt to keep his emotions under control. "All the wardens, even the king… all dead." He sighed. "This doesn't seem real."

Her eyes prickled in sympathy for him, and now _she_ wanted to embrace him. "You were close to him, weren't you?"

He closed his eyes, trying to hide his grief from her. "He was… like a father to me."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I… can understand, a little, I think."

"How so?"

"My… entire family was… murdered, before I came to Ostagar. It's why I came to Ostagar; Duncan took me."

"Wait, but you're… Elizabeth… Cousland, aren't you?"

She nodded. "If my brother lives, he is Teyrn. But I… am… losing hope for that, after last night."

"I'm so sorry," Alistair said, shocked. "I had no idea."

"I did not tell you." This wasn't about her. "We had other things to worry about."

"But…"

"It's not that important," though now that they were talking about her parents as well, she could feel the cold weight of grief welling up in her chest too. "In any event, you can talk to me if you… need to. Wish to. I did not know Duncan at all, and if you want… I would like to know more of him."

He nodded. "Not right now, but thank you. We're… both alone now, and we should probably rely on each other."

"Mm. It's only thanks to Morrigan's mother that we did not meet a similar fate."

"Do not talk about me as if I am not present, girl," said the old woman sharply.

Elizabeth stammered. "I a-apologize, ma'am. But you… never told us your name…"

"Names are pretty, but useless. The Chasind call me Flemeth. I suppose that will do for you as well."

"Then, we both thank you for saving our lives, Flemeth," Elizabeth said, bowing.

Alistair's eyes opened wide. " _The_ Flemeth? From the legends? Daveth was right…"

"And so what?" asked the old woman. "I know a bit of magic, and it has served you both well."

"And why did you save us?" Alistair asked, slightly chastened.

"Well, we cannot have all the Grey Wardens dying at once, can we?" Flemeth said mockingly. "Someone has to do something about all these darkspawn. It has always been the Grey Wardens' duty to unite the lands against a Blight. Or did that change when I wasn't looking?"

"It has not changed," Elizabeth said. "But it will be more difficult, I think, thanks to Teyrn Loghain's actions."

"Now that is a thing that doesn't make any sense," Alistair said, and Elizabeth was surprised by the change in him. Now he was hissing in anger. "Why would he do it?"

"An excellent question," Flemeth said. "Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature. Perhaps he sees the darkspawn as an army he can outmanoeuvre. Perhaps he does not see the evil that lies behind it is the true threat."

"You mean the archdemon," Alistair agreed.

"Then won't we need more Grey Wardens?" Elizabeth asked. "Two warriors cannot fight a Blight alone."

Alistair grimaced. "It would be really helpful, yes, but… the Orlesian Grey Wardens are weeks away, and while they've probably been waiting for us to call on them, Ferelden might be overrun by the time they arrive, if we left to seek them. And Weisshaupt Fortress, the Warden headquarters, is in the Anderfels – forget going there, that's months of travel. They probably don't even know there's a Blight."

"So it's up to us?"

"I think so. We could send messengers to Orlais, but… finding someone willing to go, and someone who won't be assassinated by Loghain's soldiers along the way…"

"Well, then," Elizabeth said. "He is our first problem, is he not?"

"You must certainly deal with the repercussions of his deeds before you face the archdemon… unless it finds you first," said Flemeth, not at all reassuringly.

"What could he hope to gain from this?" Alistair muttered. "He's the Queen's father, so he could take over as Regent, but could he become king while getting away with… murder, basically?"

"He would not be the first king to gain his throne that way," Flemeth said tartly. "Grow up, young man."

"Arl Eamon for one wouldn't stand for it," Alistair said forcefully. "And if he wouldn't, the Landsmeet wouldn't. It would be civil war, and Ferelden can't afford that right now. Even Loghain must see that. Let's go to Arl Eamon and ask him for help! He wasn't at Ostagar, so he will still have his army, too."

"How do we just go to the Arl for help?" Elizabeth asked. "I am no longer officially a Cousland."

"I know, but I know him. He… raised me. He's an honourable man."

"Loghain is also known as an honourable man, was an honourable man until last night," Elizabeth reminded him. "The Landsmeet will not necessarily follow Arl Eamon simply because he is a good man."

"And one nobleman's army will not stop a Blight," Flemeth said.

Elizabeth looked suddenly at Alistair. "An army… what about those treaties we went to such trouble to search for? The ones that Flemeth herself saved for us? Alistair, do you still have them?"

His face lit up. "I do! I showed them to Duncan, and he told me to keep them for the time being. They're right here!" He reached into his belt pack and withdrew them. Together, he and Elizabeth crowded over them, flipping through. "This one is for the dwarves of Orzammar…"

"This one seems to be for the Dalish elves of the Brecilian Forest… And that one is from the High Enchanter of the Circle Tower…"

"Smart lass," Flemeth said approvingly. "Dwarves, elves, mages, and others, does that not sound like the beginning of an army?"

"Can we do this?" Alistair asked, very excited. "Can we go to all these people, these places, and just… build an army?"

"That is what these papers say," Elizabeth said. "Logically, it should work. I… do not think it will be easy."

"No one said it would be easy," Flemeth said. "But I think you will be all right."

"Why would you do all this for us?" Alistair asked, as if suddenly realizing the immense implications of Flemeth's past and current actions.

"Why not? If I am the Witch of the Wilds of legend and fantasy, I must be very old and powerful, yes? But I do not wish to fight the Blight, and certainly not all alone. That is not my task. That is your task."

"The two of us…" Alistair said. "Yes. We can do it. I know we can."

"Are you ready then? Ready to go off and be Grey Wardens?"

"Yes!" Alistair cried.

"Thank you for everything, Flemeth," Elizabeth said, bowing low. Alistair's hope was infectious, and for the first time since everything had started, she felt that she had some purpose.

"No, thank _you_ ," Flemeth said, smiling mysteriously. "But there is another thing I can offer you." She raised her voice. "Morrigan!"

"Yes, Mother dear?" Morrigan said coolly, exiting the house. "Shall we have two guests for supper, or none?"

"The Grey Wardens are leaving shortly, girl, and you shall be joining them."

"Such a shame-" Morrigan began before Flemeth had finished her sentence. "What!?"

"You heard me, girl," Flemeth said. "The last time I looked, you had ears!" She chortled heartily at her own joke.

"We thank you, but if Morrigan does not wish to join us," Elizabeth began uncertainly.

"Her magic will be useful," Flemeth cut her off. "And she knows the Wilds. She can at least get you past the horde."

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan demanded indignantly.

Flemeth waved impatiently at her. "You have been itching to get out of the Wilds for years; now is your chance. As for you Wardens, consider this repayment for your lives."

"I would be glad to travel with Morrigan, if she does not mind," Elizabeth said.

"Er, not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't that cause problems later?" Alistair said, his drawl returning. "Outside of the wilds, she's an apostate mage."

"If you do not wish help from us 'illegal mages'," Flemeth said bitingly, "perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

Alistair shrank back. "Point… taken."

"Mother…" Morrigan protested again. "I am not even ready-"

"You must be ready. Alone, these two must unite Ferelden against the darkspawn. Without your help, Morrigan, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight, even I."

"I… understand." Morrigan wilted.

"And you, Wardens, do you understand?" Flemeth turned her piercing gaze to the two of them. "I give you that which I value most in all the world. I do it because you _must_ succeed."

"I understand," Elizabeth said solemnly.

"Allow me to get my things," Morrigan said, sighing, and disappeared briefly into the house.

"Well then, I am at your disposal," she said, mock-courteously to Alistair and Elizabeth when she returned. "I suggest a village north of the Wilds as our first destination. 'Tis not far and you will find much you need there."

"Right," Alistair said, and Elizabeth could see him already making a mental list of supplies and equipment.

"Or I can simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours," Morrigan continued with a smirk.

"I'd rather you speak your mind," Elizabeth said, and Flemeth chuckled.

"You will regret saying that," said the old witch.

"Dear, sweet Mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this," Morrigan said with gleeful sarcasm. "How fondly I shall remember this moment."

"Well, I always said, if you want something done, do it yourself, or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards," Flemeth rejoined in kind.

"Do you really want to take her just because her mother says so?" Alistair whispered to Elizabeth while Morrigan bantered with her mother.

"Flemeth is right; we need her help. And… I think we'll need all the help we can find."

"I suppose you're right," he acquiesced quickly enough. "The Grey Wardens have always taken whatever willing allies they could find. An attitude that does not endear them to everyone…"

"Hmm?"

"I'll explain later."

"I am so pleased to have your approval," Morrigan turned her sarcasm on Alistair. "For your information, I know a few small spells, though none so powerful as Mother's. I have studied history, and your Grey Warden treaties."

"Can you cook?" Alistair interrupted, jokingly.

"I… can cook, yes," Morrigan answered suspiciously.

"That's all right," Elizabeth said. "You do not have to cook." Although, she recalled, the stew had been very good.

"You missed your chance," Alistair teased. "It's charred rabbit from here on out. Unless you can cook?"

"Ah… not so well." Nan had showed her a few things, but she had never done any cooking herself, and certainly none unsupervised.

"That said, do not forget the stew on the fire, Mother," Morrigan said, turning to her mother. "I should hate to return and find the hut has burned down."

"It's far more likely you'll return to find this entire area, hut and all, swallowed up by the Blight," Flemeth retorted irritably.

"I… all I meant was…" Morrigan stammered.

"I know." Flemeth's voice and face softened. "Do try to have fun while you're on your big adventure, dear."

Morrigan smiled. "I certainly shall. Farewell."

"Farewell, child."

.

Morrigan led them at a swift pace through the forest, leaving the little hut far behind. There was little talking that first afternoon, and they soon made camp for the evening. Dinner was a frugal meal Morrigan had brought; the two Wardens had little more than their armour and weapons. Each of them were lost in their own thoughts. Elizabeth slept quickly, even on the cold, damp, dirty ground close to the fire, and her dreams were troubled with things she could not remember on waking.

The second day they rose early and continued, always north. Elizabeth tried to see if she could sense darkspawn, but she had no idea what it might feel like, and so sensed nothing.

After a while, Alistair seemed to rouse himself from whatever reverie he had been walking in, and attempted to make conversation with Elizabeth.

"So, finally decided to rejoin us, have you?" Morrigan interrupted. "Falling on your blade in grief seemed too much trouble, I take it?"

"Is my being upset so hard to understand?" Alistair demanded. "Have you never lost anyone dear to you? What would you do if your mother died?"

Morrigan threw back her head and laughed. "Before or after I stopped laughing?"

"Riiiight, very creepy. Forget I asked."

"What were you going to say, Alistair?" Elizabeth asked.

"Something about his navel, I suspect," Morrigan said as Alistair opened his mouth. "He certainly has been contemplating it enough."

"Oh, is this the part where we're shocked to discover you've never had a friend your entire life?"

"I can be friendly enough when I desire to… Alas, desiring one's associates to be more intelligent does not make it so."

"If you are only going to snipe at each other the whole way…" Elizabeth began, and was ignored.

"I still don't see why you had to come along," Alistair grumbled.

"Is it not obvious? My mother wishes me to come, so I came. After all, if the fate of the world rests on it…" She trailed off, her voice mocking.

"You don't believe the fate of the world rests on it?" Alistair demanded. "It's a Blight."

"Yes, we have established this; very observant of you. What more do you want of it, a signed letter of intent?"

"But… what do you want, Morrigan?" Elizabeth interrupted, more firmly this time. "I hope it is not only because your mother wishes it. I still cannot tell if you are pleased or displeased by all this…"

Morrigan considered, glancing at her with far less heat than she did at Alistair. "What I want… is to see mountains. I wish to witness the ocean, and step in its waters. I want to experience a great city, rather than see it in my mind. So yes… this is what I want. …It is only that actually leaving is harder than I thought it might be."

"Mm," Elizabeth said understandingly, and decided to change the subject altogether. "What is this village like, that you are taking us to?"

"It is a small place of little consequence called Lothering, a mere dot along your Imperial Highway. There, travelers purchase supplies from local merchants and smiths. We shall reach it in two days. I would go more often, were it not for the town's chantry."

"A chantry?" Alistair drawled. "And they _never_ , in all this time, thought that _maybe_ you might be a witch?"

"Of course they have," Morrigan smirked. "They even called out their templars once. They found nothing, of course."

"How _ever_ did you manage that."

"Peace," Elizabeth said. "Please don't fight all day."

"We haven't been fighting all day," Alistair protested.

"Haven't we?" Morrigan rejoined with a grin.

Elizabeth sighed and they both were quiet for a while.

They had traveled another few hours, with a short break for lunch, when Morrigan suddenly turned and stared at the forest. "There is… an animal following us."

Elizabeth turned and looked. "I don't see anything."

Morrigan gave her a pitying glance. "You know very little of the Wilds, or of nature in general, I can tell. Although… this beast is not a local one…"

There was a deep _'woof'_ , and a large mabari hurtled out of the undergrowth and flung itself on Elizabeth, slamming her to the ground.

Morrigan raised her staff, and Alistair drew his sword – he was still missing a shield – but Elizabeth laughed, for the first time in days.

"Huan!"

Her dog slobbered all over her face, and she pushed him away playfully, giggling, before reaching around to scratch his neck vigorously. At length, the dog let her sit up and give him a proper hug. "You're alive! You escaped the darkspawn! Oh, my boy, are you hurt anywhere? I'm so glad you found us!" Huan sat back and panted joyfully.

"Wonderful," Morrigan commented, lowering her staff. "We now have a dog, and Alistair is still the dumbest one in the group."

"Hey! I resent that!" But Alistair smiled at seeing Elizabeth so happy for once.

That night, when they stopped for food and sleep, they began to plan their journey.

"We will reach Lothering at around mid-day tomorrow," Morrigan said. "I believe we be at least a day's journey ahead of the darkspawn, despite our late start. They tend to muddle around when not directly confronted with a target."

"I made a list of things that we will need," Alistair said. "Food, tents, a new shield for me… Do you think all these things can be bought in Lothering? Surely they will be overflowing with refugees."

"With enough coin, anything can be bought, even if supplies are scarce," Morrigan said. "Do you have any, o wise Grey Warden?"

Alistair glared at her but checked his belt pouch. "I have a little. Do you have any?" he asked Elizabeth.

She shook her head, leaning against Huan. "I had barely time to put on my armour when I left Highever. I had brought an extra shield by chance, but I left it in the camp at Ostagar when we went to climb the Tower of Ishal. I am sorry."

"It's fine. I'll make do until we can get one."

"There is yet another matter," Morrigan said. "Where do you wish to go first after Lothering? I expect we should be in and out as swiftly as possible, so as not to be there when the darkspawn arrive."

Alistair looked at Elizabeth. "What do you think?"

She stared back in surprise. "Why do you ask me? You are the senior Warden."

"Well… only by a few months. And I really don't know much more about being a Warden than you do."

"But still…"

"Well… er… you see, I'm not a very good leader. I'd really rather follow you. I'd much rather follow someone who knows what they're doing."

"I don't know what I'm doing," Elizabeth said.

"Wonderful," Morrigan said, as if to herself.

"I don't know where we should go, or what we should do when we get there. I barely know who _I'm_ supposed to be, now that everything I knew is _gone_." She barreled on through her thoughts, holding back tightly against the tears that threatened to yet again well up in her. "I'm only eighteen years old. All I really know how to do is fight, and look pretty at social gatherings. You would trust the fate of Ferelden to an untested girl?"

"You'll do better than me, I'm sure of it. You were raised to lead; you got a proper education, instead of a piecemeal one like I did. Or none at all." He cast a glance at Morrigan, who rolled her eyes. "If you have questions about the Wardens, or if you want advice, I'm happy to offer it, but I'll do whatever you decide."

"Now that is unsurprising," Morrigan commented.

"Oh, lay off," Alistair said. "Look, neither of us is going to be leader. So you're the only real choice. You'll be fine, I promise."

Elizabeth turned a little desperately to Morrigan. "Surely you do not think this is a good idea?"

Morrigan snorted. "'Tis a better idea than leaving _him_ to lead. You are calmer, more rational, and dare I say more diplomatic, which even I understand could be useful, though the elegant application of blunt force is often equally effective…"

Elizabeth looked from one to the other, both of them much older than her, neither of them backing down. If they had been Fergus, she would have told them they were being lazy – but Fergus was missing in the woods, probably dead as well, and… that had not been where she had meant to go with that thought.

She bowed her head into Huan's side, thinking. It was true that she had been about to take on much responsibility in Highever, but it had been responsibility that she had been raised for. This was something else entirely.

Huan whined anxiously, peering at her.

" _Duty comes first in our family_ ," her father had said, something he had said many times, and yet again in his last words to her.

She raised her head. "All right. I will do it."

Alistair brightened again. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

She sighed at him.

"So now that that is settled," Morrigan announced, "where shall we go after Lothering?"

Elizabeth considered. "There are our potential allies… and the Arl of Redcliffe."

"Or you could go after this Loghain and remove him from the picture," Morrigan suggested, examining her nails. "Then you may not worry about that civil war you mentioned."

"That's ridiculous," Alistair said. "It's not like he has an army or years of experience or anything."

"'Tis what I'd do," Morrigan said. "Just offering. She did say I could speak my mind."

"I do think that sounds a bit ambitious for our first goal," Elizabeth said. "I think the Arl of Redcliffe might be a good choice. Redcliffe is… fairly close, and if he is as friendly as Alistair implies, he can advise us where to go next. Better than treating with a foreign and possibly unfriendly group."

"The Circle mages aren't foreign," Alistair said.

"But the Dalish elves and the dwarves of Orzammar do not necessarily care much for humans, even Grey Wardens." She remembered that much from her tutor. "We shall inform the Arl of our plans to unite Ferelden, and then we shall ask the Circle Tower to honour their treaty. After that… I do not know, yet."

"Sounds like an excellent plan," Alistair said.

"It sounds feasible, if a bit dull," Morrigan said.

"I'm sure it will be exciting enough… it can't possibly be as simple as walking up to the place and speaking to them," Elizabeth said. "Nothing is ever that simple."

"Such a young cynic," Morrigan commented. "I like that."

"We're all a bit cynical," Alistair said. "Except you. You are one hundred percent cynical. And two percent creepy. Actually, a lot more than that."

"Am I? Or am I simply someone who has seen many different kinds of people and found them to be much the same?"

"Peace," Elizabeth said, rolling over. "I'm going to sleep."

.

At about noon the next day, they found the Imperial Highway and marched a little bit west along it; after about half an hour, a tiny village nestled in a green valley drew into view.

"Lothering," Alistair said, sweetly sarcastic. "Pretty as a picture."

"And crammed full of refugees, by the looks of it," Morrigan said.

"Is it true, the darkspawn will be here by tomorrow?" Elizabeth asked.

"Probably," Morrigan said. "You aren't thinking of leading them all away, are you? Don't."

"But they'll all die if someone doesn't warn them."

"You think they need warning? If they are still here, they are here because they are exhausted and cannot flee any further today. You would slow us down lugging the elderly and children along with us? Would you save every nook and hamlet along our path? Sacrificing your life for the sake of these miserable people may be noble and heroic, but it will do no good against the Blight."

"Much as I hate to admit it, she's right," Alistair said. "I want to do something for them too. But we simply can't save every person when the darkspawn are so close on our heels."

"Can Ferelden be saved at all?" Elizabeth asked in a low voice, and Huan whined sadly at her. If the darkspawn were able to just roll from Ostagar up into the Bannorn unchecked, surely it would not be long – a few months, perhaps – before they were at the gates of Denerim itself. Even just to travel to all the places on their list would take a couple months. This was a slow race.

"I think so," Alistair said after a while. "It will take us time to build our army, but don't think that no one will fight. The darkspawn may have come this far unchallenged, but the Imperial Highway is essentially our southern border, and I think the Bannorn will certainly turn out in defense of their lands, even if in a scattered, piecemeal fashion. If Loghain actually does something useful and rallies them to a proper defense, so much the better – but I'm not sure he's going to do that."

Elizabeth wondered how far Alistair's opinions on Loghain were coloured by Ostagar. And how much her own might be. She didn't know what she believed Loghain capable of, or inclined to do, now.

Her musings were interrupted by a handful of armed men stepping onto the road, blocking their path with grim smiles. The four companions came to a stop, Morrigan looking bored, Alistair apprehensive, Huan unflappably cheerful, and Elizabeth uncertain.

"Highwaymen," Alistair whispered to Elizabeth. "Preying on those fleeing the darkspawn, I guess."

"We should teach them a lesson for interfering with us," Morrigan murmured. "It shouldn't be too hard."

"Greetings, travelers!" called the lead man. "May I guess that the pretty one in armour is the leader?"

Elizabeth took a deep breath and put on her best 'firm but fair' face. "What can I do for you gentlemen?"

"Only ten silvers to pass, my good lady."

They didn't have that coin to spare. Elizabeth raised her chin haughtily. "You are toll collectors…?"

"Indeed, for the upkeep of the Imperial Highway! It's in quite a state, isn't it?" The Imperial Highway had been built by the Tevinter, and not repaired since they had been driven out hundreds of years ago by the prophet Andraste. In many places, the 'highway' was actually a dirt track beside the crumbled half-magic marble causeway. So, while she wanted to believe the best of everyone… even if she fell for the lies of their mouths, their eyes told of their dishonesty.

"I think not," she said coldly.

"Not much gets past you, I see," said the leader regretfully.

"It's not really a toll," said a large, hulking brute behind the leader, lisping thickly. "We're just robbin' you, see?"

"Do shut up… Even a genlock would have understood that!" the leader scolded him.

Elizabeth frowned. "If you wish to rob from Grey Wardens and their allies, you are welcome to try. You will not succeed."

"Grey Wardens?" The lisping one prodded his leader's shoulder. "Ain't they the ones wot killed the king?"

"Killed the king?" Alistair repeated softly to himself, his face darkening.

"What did you say?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Yes, if you are who you claim to be, Teyrn Loghain's put quite a large bounty on you for being traitors to Ferelden – and of course, murdering the king!"

"But… aren't them Grey Wardens good? Like, I mean, really really good? Good enough to kill a king?"

"Enough!" Alistair said sternly. "We are Grey Wardens, and we killed no kings. But we'll kill you if you get in our way!"

"You're outnumbered, and your damsel friend there is defenseless… and we could do with that bounty." The leader turned to the others. "Attack!"

"Defenseless!?" cried Morrigan. "I'll show you defenseless!" Elizabeth heard a creaking, cracking sound, and even as she brought up her shield, a horrible, gigantic spider rushed past her and leapt on the leader of the bandits.

Elizabeth shrieked as blood flew everywhere. Everyone backed away; Huan howled.

The spider withdrew from the body of the bandit, and as Elizabeth raised her sword to attack, it shrank somehow and turned into Morrigan, who glared at her. "Must I do everything myself?"

"M-m-morrigan!?"

"Well, yes, who did you think that was?"

"I thought we were all being attacked by a horrible monster!" Elizabeth jumped in front of Morrigan, skidding backwards from the charge of the large, lisping brute.

"We should probably talk about strategy later," Alistair yelled, parrying the axe of another and counterattacking.

"I have no objections," Morrigan said, flicking a hand and turning a third bandit to ice.

Elizabeth steeled herself again to to mindset of 'kill or be killed', and not only blocked the blows of her attacker, but began to drive him back, though he was about three times as heavy as she was.

She didn't want to kill.

She had to kill.

Her opponent was not well trained and left her a huge opening, and her sword sliced through his throat.

When she looked around, one bandit was fleeing, pursued by Huan, and the rest were dead. Alistair was cleaning his sword, and Elizabeth looked for her own cleaning cloth. She whistled for Huan to come back; she didn't want him to stray far from her side.

"Well done," Alistair said.

"Thank you," she said, a little shakily. "Shall we continue?"

They walked into the village unchecked; everywhere the sound of sighing and sobbing came to Elizabeth's ears.

"We'd best check at the inn for news, in addition to purchasing supplies," Alistair said.

"Let's obtain supplies first," Elizabeth decided. "I'd rather be sure we have them. And if we cannot get them… we may ask at the inn where we might find them."

Tents and bedrolls were scarce, and they had to make do with one large tent and three ratty old sacks, but they would be better than sleeping on the bare ground. Shields were not to be found, but Alistair managed to wheedle enough food for a week from one of the merchants.

"I guess the shield's not such a big deal," Alistair said as they headed for the inn. "I can hold on until we get to Redcliffe. They're sure to have smiths with stock there. Hopefully we don't run into too many darkspawn on the way."

The inn's tavern was packed, and every face was gloomy. The three of them managed to squeeze onto the end of a table, and Huan slunk down at Elizabeth's feet. The beer that was brought to them was thin and watery.

"Probably shouldn't mention that we're… you know," Alistair said to Elizabeth, who nodded.

"Would you go inquire of the barkeep more information about that?" Elizabeth asked. "I would, but I am not used to such places."

Alistair nodded. "Completely understandable. Wait here. Maybe I'll try and get some cheesy bread, too…" He threw a quick smile her way and made his way to the bar.

Morrigan sniffed and hunched over her mug, her staff propped against her shoulder. "This is a waste of time."

"It's only for a short while," Elizabeth assured her, then looked up to see a bright-faced red-haired young woman in chantry robes standing next to their table. "Can I help you?"

"I'd just like to sit here; is that all right?"

"My friend will be back in a moment, but I think there is room."

The woman nodded and sat next to Elizabeth; Morrigan deliberately shifted so that there would be no room for Alistair when he got back. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at her, and Morrigan raised one of her own back with such dismissive disdain that Elizabeth looked away.

"My name is Leliana," said the woman cheerfully. Her voice was Orlesian, but Elizabeth did not think worse of her for that. She was a chantry sister, after all. "What's your name?"

"My name is Elizabeth. This is Morrigan. My friend Alistair is over there. We're just passing through."

"How lovely," said Leliana, completely sincere. "You, too, are escaping the-"

A heavy hand landed on Elizabeth's shoulder, and even Morrigan looked faintly startled. "Well, look what we have here, men! The Maker smiles on us."

"Didn't we spend all morning looking for a woman of this description? And everyone said they hadn't seen her?" said another man's voice. "I think we were lied to!"

Elizabeth struggled up from the table to face the half-dozen soldiers. "I arrived barely an hour ago. What description is this? I have done nothing wrong." She noticed that Alistair was frozen, over at the bar, staring in their direction in consternation. Huan growled from under the table.

"Dark-brown hair, blue eyes, tall, very young, with a shield with Cousland heraldry," said the captain, leering at her. "Should have lost the Cousland souvenirs, sweetheart."

"Surely there is no need for trouble," Leliana said sweetly, standing beside Elizabeth. "No doubt she is only another poor soul in need of refuge…"

"Small chance of that," growled the captain. "We have our orders. We're to eliminate the traitor Grey Wardens who killed the king! Her accomplice should be here too. Spread out and search the place. Kill anyone who resists. And shut that mutt up." A wave of mutters spread through the tavern at the 'killed the king'.

"I'm here, I'm here," Alistair said, waving his arms placatingly. "Don't hurt anyone. We didn't kill the king, but let's take this outside, shall we?"

"Fine, we can execute you outside as well as inside. Less mess for the barkeep."

"You can't do this!" Leliana cried. "The Grey Wardens-"

"The Grey Wardens are traitors to Ferelden! Our orders were very clear. Teyrn Loghain won't let you get away with it!"

Elizabeth and Alistair were beside each other now, heading for the door with the half-dozen soldiers behind them, and she could hear him gritting his teeth even over the hushed buzz of conversation. "I guess that settles that," he murmured to her. "Loghain really wants to tie up his loose ends, huh?"

"If they don't take our weapons, I'm fighting them," Elizabeth murmured back. "But even if they do, perhaps Morrigan will help us."

"Before or after she stops laughing?" Alistair snarked.

Outside, the one surviving bandit pointed at them. "That's them, see, as I said! Do I get my reward now?"

"You'll be paid," grunted the soldier captain. "Take their weapons, men."

The Orlesian chantry sister, Leliana, had followed them. "Please don't do this! The Grey Wardens are all that protect us against the Blight!"

"Didn't help King Cailan, now, did it? Get to it, men!"

Instead of surrendering, Elizabeth and Alistair nodded at each other, and whipped out their weapons, standing back to back in the yard of the inn.

"So you want to do it the hard way?" the captain growled. "So be it; I was hoping you would anyway."

"I warn you," Leliana began again.

"I will kill you, Sister, if you say another word!"

"And I will kill you if you harm them," said the sister, a knife magically appearing in her hand, her voice unexpectedly hard and grim. Huan burst from the door and flung himself on another soldier, who yelled in surprise.

Elizabeth was struggling with another soldier, trying to stay with her back to Alistair even as her opponent manoeuvred in front of her. There was another one to her side, and if there was another one, it was too many too keep track of… but the one to her flank stopped short suddenly, frozen solid. Then even as she parried another blow from her opponent, the chantry sister slipped around behind and cut his throat with her dagger.

Now Elizabeth could turn and help Alistair, but he had already felled his opponents. The bandit had run off again. That left only…

"All right! All right! I surrender!" the captain exclaimed, Huan growling in his face while crouched on his chest. "Please don't kill me!"

"Good; I hope you've learned your lesson and we can stop fighting now," Leliana said, twirling her dagger with a dexterity that did not match her appearance at all. Elizabeth gestured to Huan, and the mabari reluctantly let the captain stand and brush himself off.

"We were only following orders, my lady."

"I accept your surrender," Elizabeth said. "But Loghain has lied to you. The Teyrn left King Cailan to die against the darkspawn!"

"But… I was there! The Teyrn pulled us out of a trap! The Grey Wardens led the king to his death. The Teyrn could do nothing!"

Elizabeth sighed. "I was there too. I don't want Loghain to learn so quickly that we survived and where we are, but I have no wish to kill you. You had better start running, and quickly."

"Yes ma'am! Thank you, ma'am!" He bowed to her and ran out of the inn's yard.

Elizabeth turned to Leliana. "Many thanks for your help. But where does a sister learn to fight like that?"

Leliana shrugged as if embarrassed, putting her hands behind her back and tilting her head endearingly. "Many sisters had other lives before they joined the chantry, no? But is it true that you are the Grey Wardens?"

"And if we are?" Alistair asked.

"We are," Elizabeth said.

"Wonderful! The Maker has commanded me to aid you." She beamed at them.

Alistair and Elizabeth looked at each other. "Can you… elaborate?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

Leliana blushed. "Well… not really. I had a marvelous vision, and I knew I was destined to join you. That is, if you don't mind."

"I would be delighted to have you," Elizabeth said, and Huan barked happily. Morrigan sighed in disgust.

"Wonderful!" Leliana said again. "Then I must go and recover my adventuring gear. I will be back in a few moments. Please wait for me." She took off at an eager run towards the chantry.

"We're not really taking the crazy lady?" Alistair said to Elizabeth. "She's cute and all, but… visions from the Maker?"

"She wants to help, and she clearly knows how to handle herself in battle," Elizabeth said. "And she seems very kind."

"What if she's an Orlesian spy?" Alistair said dubiously.

"Would even an Orlesian spy work against stopping a Blight?" Elizabeth said. "But I'd rather think well of her. I don't believe she means us any harm."

"You are so naive," Morrigan said irritably. "But by all means, take the hallucinating religious freak."

.

Leliana arrived, true to her word, in about twenty minutes. When she did, Elizabeth stared. The red-headed woman had traded her muted pink and gold chantry robe for an outfit of black, tight-fitting, stiff leather plates, long boots, and a fantastic red sash. On her back was a large bow of silvery-golden polished wood and a large quiver of arrows, and a polished brown lute with black and gold inlay. She smiled at Elizabeth, pushing her hair back from her face. "I used to be quite the marksman. I am sure my skills will come in handy."

"All right, we do need an archer," Alistair confessed.

"Welcome," Elizabeth said. "We are only making a quick stop here to resupply before pressing on to Redcliffe. We are going to raise an army to stop the Blight."

Leliana clapped her hands. "Marvelous! I cannot wait. Do you know the way?"

"I do, more or less," Alistair said. "West is that way, right?"

"Surely you are not that stupid," Morrigan said to him.

"I am not, but the sun's gone behind those clouds, look-"

"As if you've forgotten your directions since we arrived here! On the other hand, men tend to get lost more easily…"

"Hey, I don't have creepy forest witchy powers, all right? And men do too not get lost more easily."

Leliana looked at them quizzically. "Are… they always like that?"

"I think so," Elizabeth said. "They have been since they met a few days ago…"

Leliana giggled to herself. "Perhaps they like each other!"

Elizabeth and Huan looked at her in confusion. "I'm not sure where you get that idea," Elizabeth said. "I am quite sure they despise each other and only get along at all because I am here."

"Hmm," Leliana chuckled. "I think… time will tell. You said they only met a few days ago, yes?"

"Yes…"

"Hmhmhm, time will tell."

They had reached the outskirts of town, where small shacks bordered small fields, and the road wound away under a windmill on a little hill.

Elizabeth would have missed the cage altogether if the person inside had not moved. "Oh! There's… there's someone in there!"

The 'someone' was very dark-skinned, with white hair in cornrows, and an absolutely ferocious scowl. He looked extremely powerful. "Leave me be. I will not amuse you any more than the rest of my captors." His voice was deep and even.

Elizabeth ignored his words and came closer. "Why are you in that cage?"

"Your chantry put me here."

"I remember him," Leliana said in a low voice. "The Revered Mother said he slaughtered an entire family, even the children."

"It is as she says," said the man. "I killed a farmhold with my own hands. Eight people, not including the children. I have been convicted of murder and I await my fate here."

"The darkspawn are coming," Elizabeth said. "I do not think you will meet your fate at the hands of an executioner."

"Cheerful," said Morrigan cheerfully.

Elizabeth was thinking. He did not look friendly. He admitted to murder. But if he was left here, he would die an ignominous death in a cage at the hands of monsters. "What is your name?"

"I am Sten of the Beresaad," the man answered, and stood, and she saw with wide eyes that he was a giant – a clear foot taller than her, and almost a foot taller than Alistair. "I am the vanguard of the Qunari people."

"It must have been difficult to apprehend you," Elizabeth said.

"I gave myself up."

"You… I don't understand?"

"I acted without honour, and now my life is forfeit."

"If… If I asked for your help against the Blight, would you be able to restore your honour that way?"

"Elizabeth… what are you doing?" asked Alistair.

"I agree," Leliana said. "He has been in that cage for twenty days. To die of starvation, or to be slain by the darkspawn… not even a murderer deserves that."

"You are both disgustingly naive," Morrigan muttered.

The giant regarded her with dark eyes. "Are you a Grey Warden, that you fight against the Blight?"

"I am," Elizabeth said, lifting her chin at the implied challenge.

"I have heard legends of the Grey Wardens' strength and skill. Though… it seems not all legends are true."

"Hey!" Alistair said. "We're doing the best we can, after our entire order was massacred."

"I will fight against the Blight," said the giant at length. "If you intend to release me, however, you must bargain with the chantry. They hold the keys to this prison."

"I will return," Elizabeth said, and walked back towards town.

Alistair jogged to catch up with her. "Are you crazy? We can't trust a qunari!"

"I heard they prize their honour highly," Elizabeth said. "Although they define it differently than we Fereldans do, they value it above all else in life. I agree with Leliana, that he cannot be left here to rot. I do not think he will betray us – although he does not seem to think well of us."

"I will take care of him if he tries anything; don't you worry your foolish little head," Morrigan said mockingly to Alistair.

"I am glad," Leliana said to Elizabeth. "I think we shall get along very well, you and I!"

Huan barked.

.

The Revered Mother of the chantry was understandably upset that Elizabeth intended to free the qunari, but though Alistair suggested invoking the Right of Conscription, she gave in without much of a fight, giving Elizabeth the key to the cage and the qunari's armour that had been taken from him before.

"No weapon?" Elizabeth asked.

"He had none," the Revered Mother sniffed, "for which our Templars are grateful. Be off with you, and remove him from Lothering as quickly as you can."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, saluting her with both hands crossed across her chest, and hurried back to the giant.

When he was released from the cage, he stretched, and Elizabeth realized just how tall and broad he was. She handed him his armour, trying to hide her intimidation.

When he had dressed, he turned to her, looking down on her. "I am Sten of the Beresaad, and I will follow you until my honour is restored. …Or you prove completely useless," he added, with a contempt that told her he had not missed her fear.

Still, manners cost nothing. "Thank you, Sten. We are traveling to Redcliffe to begin building an army to fight the Blight. My name is Elizabeth."

He grunted and nodded.

"We'll take the highway," Alistair said to her. "It'll be more dangerous, but we can't afford to go slowly but safely."

"All right," Elizabeth said. "I agree. Let's find a way up if we can."

They had marched for an hour when Huan stopped and began to sniff.

"What is it, boy?" Elizabeth said. "Is there danger?"

He barked, and went charging off.

"So much for the dog," commented Morrigan drily.

But Leliana held up a hand for silence. "I hear… battle?"

"Let's go, then," Elizabeth said, her hand going to her sword.

"It's darkspawn," Alistair said, drawing his own sword. "I'm right behind you."

They raced up the ancient road towards the sounds of combat.


	4. Redcliffe

Author's note: A thing that is a little bit odd is the secret passage into Redcliffe Castle… The windmill is on a cliff, overlooking the village, so the passage goes… down the cliff, under the village, under the _lake_ , and then up into the castle… That's REALLY impressive medieval engineering. :D

.

Redcliffe

.

Leliana saw them first. "Two dwarves against… I count ten darkspawn!"

"Let's even those odds," Alistair growled.

Elizabeth was out in front, charging to the rescue as fast as she could. Huan was already there, getting between one dwarf and his darkspawn attackers, barking furiously. The dwarves were backed against their cart, and their ox was lowing unhappily. She knocked a darkspawn to the ground with her shield and blocked the attack of another with her sword.

Sten had charged into battle as well, despite only having his armour, but he had seen there were weapons on the cart, and, seizing a two-handed maul, swung a powerful blow towards their enemies.

Elizabeth felt anger fill her again. It was easy to hate the darkspawn, easy to strike more strongly against them. She did not forget her training, which stood her in good stead against their brutal assailants, but as she killed one she felt a sense of satisfaction that she had never felt fighting against anything else.

Leliana's arrows were unerring in their flight; Alistair, despite his lack of shield, fought bravely at her shoulder. Between the six of them, and the one dwarf – the other was cowering by the cart – they made short work of the darkspawn.

As they caught their breath, the dwarf turned to Alistair. "We thank you for your assistance! I'm sure we'd have been done for without you!"

"You're welcome!" said Alistair. "But Elizabeth here is our leader."

Elizabeth found her hand seized and shaken heartily. "Many thanks, Miss! If there's anything we can do for you, just let us know!"

"Well…" Elizabeth glanced at Sten. "Might my companion keep the weapon he holds?"

"Yes, of course! It would be my pleasure."

Sten grunted and holstered the thing on his back.

"Oh, do you have any shields?" Alistair asked. "I couldn't find any in Lothering…"

"I might have one or two around here somewhere…"

"Just take one from the darkspawn," Morrigan sniffed. "You don't really have leisure to be picky about it."

"That's stupid," Alistair said. "I'm not using a darkspawn's shield!"

"Found it!" The dwarf popped out of his cart with a human-sized shield. "How will this do, eh?"

"I think that will do nicely," Alistair said happily. "I feel much better now!"

"Happy to be of service. Now, my name is Bodhan Feddic, and this here is my son, Sandal. We're merchants, obviously, and we're headed to Redcliffe to escape those monsters. If you hadn't come along when you did, we would have not succeeded!"

"What a coincidence," Alistair said. "We are also headed to Redcliffe!" He turned to Elizabeth. "What do you say, should we travel together? There's safety in numbers!"

"That would be grand," Feddic said, looking at her too.

She nodded. "That will be fine. Let us help you collect your things."

.

They traveled the rest of the day in the company of the dwarf, who seemed slightly nervous but very jolly, even in the face of their misfortunes. And he was a salesman, and a talkative one – he tried to sell Leliana gloves, to sell Morrigan a dress – the witch glared at him so harshly Elizabeth was afraid he would melt on the spot – and to sell Elizabeth herself a hat, of all things. But while he carried a good supply of clothes, he also had more practical things, such as weapons, armour, first aid supplies, and food. Elizabeth did not want to buy anything – she wasn't sure exactly how much money Alistair had left, but she wanted to save as much as they could.

The son seemed a simple sort, speaking little but smiling much, in a vacant sort of way. Feddic explained that he was a savant at enchanting weapons and armour, and didn't really care for much else in way of conversation.

During the day she, and Leliana, and Morrigan were all accosted by Sten. "I do not understand," he said. "You look like women."

They exchanged confused glances. "How kind of you to notice," Morrigan answered, turning her head coyly and stretching seductively.

"Not what I meant. What are you doing here?"

"Fighting the Blight?" Leliana asked.

Sten grunted and turned to Elizabeth. "You are a Grey Warden, which means you can't be a woman. Women are priests, artisans, farmers or shopkeepers. None of them have any place in fighting."

Elizabeth frowned, trying not to feel hurt. Clearly this was more than the slowly-dying, traditional Fereldan view that women were too delicate or weak-willed to fight. Sten was a Qunari and she had no idea how to approach him. "You have no women who fight?"

"No. Why would our women wish to be men?"

"We don't," Leliana said, blinking a bit too rapidly. "We just wish to fight and we happen to be women."

"This conversation is boring," Morrigan announced, and moved off in Alistair's direction.

"Do your women also wish to live on the moon?" Sten demanded. "That makes the same amount of sense."

"Sten, I don't understand your point," Elizabeth said, trying not to be timid. "Why should a woman not fight?"

Sten sighed. "We are born, Qunari or elf or dwarf or human. We do not choose the size of our hands, the colour of our hair, the land we are from, whether we are foolish or intelligent. We simply are. That is the Qun."

"We can choose what to do with our lives," Elizabeth said, although it flashed into her head that he had at least part of a point – her birth as a noblewoman made it easier for her to learn to fight and fight well. So she amended her answer. "It is true we do not choose many things about ourselves, and that affects the choices we do make. It is also true there are times when it is difficult to make decisions: a slave may not choose to do many things or he will lose his ability to choose forever, with death. It is one reason I detest slavery. But in all that, I believe that it is possible for a woman to choose to fight and still remain a woman."

"Hm. We'll see," was all that Sten said. She wondered whether he was doubting her ability to fight, or whether she did not count as a woman now but more of a strange genderless creature.

"That was rather well said," Leliana told her. "Have you done some thinking on this?"

"There have been times when I have had to convince stuffy banns and arls that Teyrn Cousland's daughter is within her rights to bear a sword," Elizabeth said. "I shall have to think more on it." And see if Sten would tell her more of his people. She was at a significant disadvantage. But, if he didn't know that woman could and would fight in Ferelden, he was at a disadvantage as well.

They camped in the evening in a little hollow by the road. Feddic and his son turned their ox loose to graze and made their own little campfire slightly apart from the one the companions made. Morrigan, too, withdrew slightly from the group and sat away from their fire, and it seemed to Elizabeth she was uncomfortable among so many people.

They slept early. At Alistair's insistence, the three women shared the tent and the sleeping bags, and Alistair, Sten, and Huan slept outside.

.

.

She was standing – standing? Sitting? Perhaps, she only existed, without pose or substance – in a murky, black-green haze. Something was terribly wrong, something which chilled her to her bones.

Something was hunting her. But she couldn't move.

Something massive was coming, something huge and old and evil, desiring to devour her and the rest of the world in a single gulp.

She had felt this before, somehow, but never this strongly…

Then she saw it – a gigantic dragon, far larger than she had ever imagined from the stories her father used to tell her. Black and purple, with baleful eyes, it soared into her vision through the murk and swooped around her, and she felt horror constrict her throat. It spoke words she couldn't understand in a voice deeper and more powerful than thunder. It was searching for her, and any moment it would see her… She felt so tiny, so helpless, and she couldn't move!

It had seen her! With a flap of its ponderous, leathery wings, it turned to her, and its jaws opened in a roar that grew to a malevolent shriek…

Elizabeth screamed.

She screamed again as she felt herself pinned down, but now she could move, and she thrashed against her attacker, throwing them off with desperate strength.

"Oof!" said Leliana's voice.

"What in the world-" said Morrigan's voice.

"May I come- I know what's wrong!" Alistair's voice sounded slightly muffled.

Elizabeth sat up, breathing hard, terrified tears in her eyes. She struggled to her feet and lurched out of the tent and into the cold night air, and nearly into Alistair's arms. She shrugged him off and walked unsteadily – her body was still weak from sleep – in the direction of the forest.

Alistair caught up with her easily. "Hey, it's okay, just… Wait for a moment, all right?"

"Not here," she said, her voice cracking slightly. "Too many people."

"All right." He followed her behind a tree, where she sat, sliding down the rough trunk with an immense sigh. He sat beside her. "Nightmares, huh?"

"I dreamed of… an immense and evil dragon. It's… searching for me."

He nodded. "That's the archdemon."

"Is that the way of sensing darkspawn?" she asked.

"It's part of it, though that's not how it's used everyday. But yes, that's how we knew it was a real Blight. I… um, I'm sorry I didn't warn you of it before. I had terrible nightmares when I was made Warden. I think everyone does. I put it out of my head afterwards. I didn't want to remember them."

"So they go away?" Elizabeth asked hopefully.

"Yes, they do, after a few months." His face brightened comfortingly, and then fell again. "Except…"

"Except…?"

He grimaced and looked away from her. "A Warden's life… is short. It's poison that we took, after all… and eventually, every Warden is driven to seek out the darkspawn and die in battle. They… go crazy if they don't. Actually, I can't think of anyone resisting the urge… they all go eventually, even if they don't want to. Most go to the Deep Roads." His voice got very quiet. "You start having nightmares again when it's time. Duncan… Duncan told me recently he'd been having them."

"Mm." She didn't speak for a while, as Alistair was clearly having a moment. But she had questions that desperately needed answering. "How long is this life?"

"I think… about thirty years after your Joining."

"Thirty!?"

"That's a long time, isn't it!?"

"No! It is not!" she cried. "My… my mother was only about fifty; she would have lived far longer if not for-! My father was almost sixty! I may not know what I want from life, but I wanted to have a long life, I wanted… I wanted a family of my own…" She knew she was being petulant about things she could not change. "Not to die in a dark hole because of monsters, with my life half unlived!"

"I'm really sorry," Alistair said again. "Really really sorry. Er… if it helps… It's what I'm going to be doing too…"

"That does not help in the slightest," she said bitterly. "Do you have any more wonderful surprises about my new condition?"

"Um. Not that I can think of."

"Then leave me alone." She shoved him away and he fell over.

"Ow."

She got up and walked further into the forest.

"Don't go too far," he called anxiously.

"Leave me alone, Alistair," she repeated, and kept going.

When she could no longer see the fire of camp, she stopped and sat down heavily against another tree. In front of her, the forest was nearly black. She knew it was not safe to be this far alone, but she was too tired to care.

Her body ached all over, arms, legs, feet, back. Since she had left Highever, she had only had a couple days in which she had not marched nearly the whole day – and on many of those days, she had had to fight as well. Her easy past life as a pampered noblewoman, martial training aside, had not adequately prepared her for the life of a soldier.

"This is my fate," she muttered. "I cannot complain." It would ill befit the leader to complain of such small problems, and… she was too proud for that.

There came a glow from behind her, and she turned to see a speck of lantern light meandering through the forest towards her. Leliana held the lantern, and soon found her, and sat cross-legged beside her with a friendly smile.

"I hope you don't mind me being here, Elizabeth," she said with her gentle lilting accent. "I don't want you to be out here alone, even if you don't want to talk to me."

"Mm," Elizabeth said. "Thank you." She liked Alistair, she really did, with his light sarcasm and the shy, doofy smile she had seen sometimes creeping over his face, but he was also a reminder of why she was here and what she had to do. Leliana seemed less threatening, and was certainly more open and sweet than Morrigan.

"But if you did want to talk to me, I'd be happy to listen," Leliana said, reinforcing Elizabeth's observation.

"We could get to know each other a bit better," Elizabeth agreed. "I don't know if it was mentioned, but my father was Teyrn Cousland…"

Somehow, it all came out – how she was alone, with all her family dead and her home captured and everything she had ever known changed forever, how she did not feel prepared to lead their little group on their mission so vital to the fate of Ferelden, even that she was afraid of what lay ahead, and of the archdemon. And, also, how she disliked being cold and sore and hungry, but how she hated to say so – especially in front of Sten, now, who would surely judge her even more poorly than he already did, should he learn she felt these things as keenly as she did.

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said at last. "I… should not have told you these things, Sister Leliana."

Leliana shook her head. "Everyone needs to let out their emotions now and then. I am happy to listen, if it helps you. And… I am not really a Sister. I was only a Lay Sister. I took no vows… Just call me Leliana, if you please."

"Very well, Leliana," Elizabeth said. "And what is your story? How did you come to be with us?"

Leliana's eyes clouded over. "It is a long tale and one I am not ready to tell yet… But I can tell you other things of myself. My mother was Fereldan, from Denerim, but she worked for Lady Cecilie of Orlais. When the Rebellion threw out the Orlesians, my mother went with Lady Cecilie to Orlais, so I was born and grew up there. Lady Cecilie was a very kind woman, and I had a happy childhood. My mother told me many stories of Ferelden, though, and I came to love this country very much as well. I think she missed it, and… in my heart, this must be my homeland. Eventually, though, I learned the lute and to sing, and to dance, at first to entertain Lady Cecilie, but I left my home and became a traveling minstrel." Her eyes sparkled in the lantern's light. "I do love a good tale. Perhaps I can record our journeys in song!"

"Would you tell me some of your stories sometime?" Elizabeth asked.

"With pleasure! But at the moment I am telling you my own story, no?"

"Yes, indeed, please continue."

"Well… you seemed surprised by how well I could fight. But one picks up many skills as one travels, no? While many loved me and rewarded me with applause and coin, some desired… other things, or to take what I had earned, and so I learned to defend myself."

Elizabeth nodded. "I understand. …Is your mother still in Orlais?"

Leliana glanced away briefly. "My mother, too, died. But when I was very young, and of sickness, not like your poor mother. It is a little unfair, I think, that I have more memories of Lady Cecilie than my real mother…" She turned back to Elizabeth with another smile. "But I will grant you, I understand missing the comforts of home. I… you will laugh, perhaps, but I miss the fine things I had. Especially when I was living in Val Royeaux, the capital. Oh, the dresses I had, and the furs! And the shoes! I love shoes dearly. You may know that Orlais is… ridiculously fashionable, and I agree it was sometimes a bit silly, but it was worth putting up with the trends for the darling shoes. Sometimes a girl just wants to have pretty feet, you know. It is a thing I don't think Fereldans quite understand."

"I can't say I understand entirely, as you say," Elizabeth said, venturing to smile. "I like my boots; they are comfortable and I think they look well. The fine shoes I had to wear for formal occasions may have been pretty, but they hurt my feet."

"Ah, they were not fitted properly," Leliana said. "Sometime, perhaps if we ever go to Denerim, I shall take you shopping for shoes and we shall get you something lovely _and_ comfortable."

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "I will not say no."

"You won't regret it," Leliana promised. "Now, perhaps you should come back to camp and try to sleep again, yes? I will help you with your nightmares if you like. And… I think your friend Alistair means well, please don't be too hard on him."

"I know he means well," Elizabeth said. "I just… wish things were otherwise." She stood, and Leliana stood. "Thank you, Leliana." And Elizabeth leaned forward and hugged the other woman.

Leliana chuckled. "You are most welcome, Elizabeth."

.

It took them four more days to reach Redcliffe. Leliana was unflaggingly cheerful, Sten spoke little, if at all, and Morrigan and Alistair bickered sporadically – all was normal in their group. Bodhan Feddic and his son trailed behind them.

Redcliffe Castle lay at the end of Gherlen's Pass, a narrow valley leading into the Frostback Mountains and the main land route into Ferelden.. It had always been Ferelden's first and main line of defense, and it was difficult to conquer the rest of the country while Redcliffe still remained on guard. The fortress had a reputation for being unassailable, yet it had been captured three times in known history – once by the legendary King Calenhad, for whom the massive neighbouring lake was named, once by the Orlesians at the beginning of their recent occupation, and recaptured by Eamon Guerrin himself, the current Arl of Redcliffe. This much Elizabeth could recite from Brother Aldous's patient tutoring. But she had never been there, and only met Teagan Guerrin, Arl Eamon's younger brother, once in Denerim when she was younger. She was uncertain whether she should be excited or nervous about their current journey.

The road followed the edge of the lake with the water on their right. Ahead, on the morning of the fifth day after Lothering, a red hill rose from the lake with a formidable fortress at its crest. It could only be reached by a narrow bridge from the mainland. Below them lay the fishing town of Redcliffe Village; Redcliffe was no trading centre, and while it was an important, well-manned arling, it was not a rich one and had no castle town or city.

When they caught sight of the castle, Alistair began to lag behind, even behind the dwarves.

Elizabeth dropped back to talk to him. "Are you all right?"

"Hm? Oh, yes… everything's fine."

"Is it Duncan? Do you want to talk?"

He shrugged and hooked his thumbs in his belt. "You don't have to do that. I know you didn't know him very long. And… I should have handled his loss better. He warned me that… that he might not be around much longer. Any of us could die in battle, really… I shouldn't have been out of it so much, not with so much riding on us, not with the Blight and… I shouldn't have lost it."

"It's quite all right," she said. "I have needed time to grieve and so do you."

"Well, I am sorry for not being more help to you."

"You've been tremendous help," she said.

"After I forced you to take leadership…"

"Would you like it back?" she offered, a half-smile on her lips.

"Er… no. Um. Haha." He laughed awkwardly, then sobered. "Well, about Duncan… when this is all over, I'd like to have a proper funeral for him. I don't think he had any family. Well, outside of the Grey Wardens, that is. …If we're still alive."

"We will live," she said, with more conviction than she felt. "We are a powerful group already. If we can just work together…"

"You're right," he said. "We can do this."

They walked in companionable silence for a moment, and then he spoke up again. "But… there's something else bothering me… something I have to tell you. Something I really should have told you earlier." His voice was slowing down even for his usual drawl.

"Hmm?"

"I… well, I told you that Arl Eamon raised me, right?"

"Yes, I recall that."

"Well, you see… he took me in because… um. My father was King Maric."

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. "Indeed?"

"Yes. I think my mother was a maid at the castle… So that made Cailan… my half-brother, I suppose." He paused, and then that shy smile crept over his face. "So I guess that makes me not just a bastard, but a royal bastard."

Elizabeth chuckled, but her eyes were still round in surprise. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"I'm sorry, I really should have, I know. I don't like to talk about it, I mean, for one thing, I was an inconvenience, a threat to Cailan's rule, so everyone who knew treated it as a deep dark secret. It doesn't mean anything to me, honestly, and I was hoping… you'd just treat me as myself. Though… I've been kind of blowing it since we met, haven't I?"

"It's fine," she assured him. "I haven't been very kind to you, I know."

"You've been going through some difficult things…"

"And so have you, so don't think that excuses my behaviour."

He shrugged. "Anyway, it's important that you know now, because… Arl Eamon knows, and with Cailan… gone, he'll probably try to put me on the throne in his place."

"Ah," Elizabeth said. "I am prepared. More or less, I suppose."

"Well, that and… see, the arlessa, Isolde, didn't really like me. She was one of the people who didn't know, and so she thought I was _Eamon's_ bastard. So she was rather mean to me until I was packed off to the chantry."

"What will she do now, then?"

"I don't know," Alistair said thoughtfully. "It's been ten or eleven years. Part of me wants to think she will scream and faint, but… the other part of me says that's childish. Anyway, if anyone deserves the throne, it's Arl Eamon himself. He's not of the Theirin line, but he is Cailan's uncle, and more importantly, he's popular with the people."

"So you don't wish for the throne yourself?"

"Maker, no! I never expected or wanted it. I'm a Grey Warden now, and I'm happy where I am for… the first time in my life, probably. Anyone who ever knew I was Maric's bastard either resented me for it, or coddled me. I think even Duncan kept me out of the fighting because of that." He sighed. "But… you're not going to treat me differently, are you?"

"No," Elizabeth said. "If we were not both Wardens, I would rank nearly as high as you, anyhow."

"Yes, but you're so formal and proper. I couldn't stand it if you started calling me 'Your Highness' or some nonsense like that. Just please keep thinking of me as your brother-in-arms, and I'll be fine."

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "It's Arl Eamon you'll have to contend with over it, anyway."

"I know. Well, let's… catch up to the others! We're quite a ways behind, aren't we? My fault. I'm sorry."

"You apologize a lot," she commented.

"Bad habit," he said with another smile. "Used to being around grumpy people who don't take kindly to my wit."

"Is there anything else I should be informed of, then?" she asked. "About Grey Wardens, about you, about the world in general…?"

"Er… other than the fact that I adore cheese and my slight obsession with my hair, I can't think of anything about myself," he said, and ran a hand through the light brown spikes that stuck out over his forehead.

"So that's why it's like that," she murmured to herself.

"If you spent more time fussing with your brain and less time fussing with your hair, you might actually have amounted to something by now," Morrigan said.

"Oh, and you've never spent any time fussing with your hair," Alistair retorted, and Elizabeth caught a slight flush on Morrigan's face. The witch's hair was usually piled up into an artfully messy bun, but her black hair was smooth and shining for all that it seemed to take her a few moments to fix it each morning.

Morrigan snapped something back, and Elizabeth strode to the head of the party, to be closer to Huan and Leliana and farther away from their quarreling.

It was not long before they saw people heading towards them; they looked haggard and frightened.

"Don't go into the village!" they cried to the group. "Don't go to the castle! Flee for your lives!"

"That's just what we've already been doing," Alistair complained. "What's the matter?"

One of them looked around nervously and lowered his voice. "The village has been attacked these three nights by monsters from the castle. We won't be able to hold out another night!"

"What kind of monsters?" Elizabeth asked sharply. "Surely the darkspawn have not reached this place yet?"

"No," the man said, shaking his head vigourously. "The… undead, we think. We're not sure. We just want to get out of here!"

"Is there anyone in charge down in the village?"

"Bann Teagan is in the chantry, attempting to organize a defense. Good luck to you!"

"Hold!" Elizabeth said sternly. "I know Bann Teagan is a good man and a good leader, and you would abandon him?"

"You don't know the terror that comes at night!" wailed a woman in the group, and with that, they all fled up the road past the companions.

"Oh dear," said Bodhan Feddic. "Perhaps we should go elsewhere?"

"Undead?" asked Leliana. "That is most troubling… Do you think it's something in the water?"

"I must see Bann Teagan immediately," Elizabeth said. "Let us go to the village."

"Ooh! A windmill," Leliana said, and pointed. "I once took a ride on the sails of a windmill. Didn't turn out well."

"No? It sounds like fun," Elizabeth said, though she forebore to ask why Leliana would do such a thing. She had a suspicion it was something daring and adventurous and far more dangerous than Leliana appeared capable of.

"No, indeed… falling is less fun."

The road to the village was steep, and the closer they came to the water level, the more hopeless the atmosphere became. There were barricades, some of them looking as if they had been broken with great force, and a few men practicing their archery in the yard of the chantry, and a few knights standing or sitting on the chantry porch with weary expressions.

A sturdy man with a great black beard saw them and hailed them. "Travelers, eh? What are you doing here?"

"We've come to help," Elizabeth said, though Morrigan snorted. "We don't know what's wrong but I was told Bann Teagan was here."

"Aye. I am Murdock, the mayor of this poor village."

"I am Elizabeth, of the Grey Wardens," said she.

"I hear they're wanted for the murder of King Cailan," said the mayor, with a sharp glance.

"Absolutely not!" Alistair cried. "We've been framed by Teyrn Loghain!"

"If you are worried for Bann Teagan's safety, do not fear," Elizabeth said. "I met him once in Denerim. I only wish to help."

"Very well, on with you then. At least you have swords, you'll be some help against the skeletons. Tomas! Take them to the Bann."

"Yes, ser!" A young man ran up. "This way, sers and ladies!" Bodhan Feddic stayed behind to find a place for his cart.

The chantry was not large, but it was sturdily built of stone, and as they entered it, Elizabeth saw the pews had been moved, ready to barricade the door. It seemed all the women and children of the village were there, huddled in small groups, some of them weeping, some of them silent and pale.

Bann Teagan was at the back of the church, conferring with a knight and the Revered Mother over a map. He was rather young, in his early thirties, and had a roguish smile when he chose to, Elizabeth remembered, and looked like he could be a strong warrior. He looked up when the companions drew near.

"Yes, Tomas? Who are these people?"

Elizabeth stepped forward. "Bann Teagan, it has been a while since we last met. I don't suppose you would remember me…"

For a moment he frowned, searching her face. "Lady Elizabeth? Elizabeth Cousland!? You live!" And he smiled.

"For now," she said. "I have joined the Grey Wardens and am no longer truly a Cousland."

"I see. But you are lovelier than ever, my lady. And Alistair! I remember you! Well met, both of you." He clasped both their hands in greeting. "What brings you here?"

"It's a long story," Alistair said. "We were hoping to ask Arl Eamon for advice, but… what in the world is happening?"

Teagan sighed. "We're not rightly sure either. I heard of the defeat at Ostagar in my home of Rainesfere, and came to ask my brother for advice myself, as I do not trust the word from Teyrn Loghain on the events there. I have yet to confront the Teyrn myself, but… I intend to."

"Good," Alistair said. "Can I come?"

"Of course!" Teagan said. "But when I arrived here two days ago, the village was in shock and the castle inaccessible. I have done what I can to shore up defenses, but I fear a greater attack than any before will come tonight."

"Our services are yours," Elizabeth said. "We… really need to speak to the Arl."

Teagan brightened. "That is wonderful news. You look like a competent bunch, and I know Alistair has had Templar training, and I know you, Lady Elizabeth, have a keen interest in swordfighting, so with the remaining Redcliffe knights, we might just stand a chance."

"The remaining knights?" Elizabeth asked. "What do you mean?"

The knight beside Teagan bowed. "If I might be so bold, my lady… I am Ser Perth, the captain of the Redcliffe garrison. Arl Eamon fell ill a short while ago, right before the Battle of Ostagar. So ill, in fact, that it was said the only thing that could save him was the Sacred Ashes of Our Lady Andraste. The Arlessa, desperate to save her husband, sent out most of the knights to seek the Sacred Ashes… and none have returned since." The knight tried to appear hopeful. "But it's only been two weeks, and the Ashes have been lost for centuries, so we are trying to have patience."

"Seems a fool's errand," Morrigan commented. "Why send out knights? Do they have the brains required to find mystic artifacts which may or may not exist?"

"Do you not know?" Leliana asked, her eyes lighting up at the thought. "Knights do such brave deeds all the time in tales and song!"

"This is no tale nor song," Morrigan said. "Instead, the most useful fighters are gone in a situation where fighters are exactly what you need."

"Be it as it may," Teagan said, showing no sign of annoyance at Morrigan's interruption, "we must make do with what we have. I will show you around our defenses after I finish discussing them with Ser Perth and Mother Hannah. I would look forward to hearing your input."

Elizabeth bowed and turned to leave the chantry. Outwardly she was composed, but inwardly she was aflutter at the idea that Teagan Guerrin wanted her opinion on the defense.

Outside she met Bodhan Feddic. "I believe this chantry will be a safe place for you if you have no wish to fight."

"No indeed," Feddic said. "I'm not very good at it, and it's only a last resort. Me and my boy will stay here for now."

"Sten, Leliana," she went on, "take a look around the village and let me know if you find anything of interest. I will look around myself later but for now I must wait for Bann Teagan."

"Right away," Leliana said cheerfully. "Come on, Sten!" Sten followed her silently.

Huan stretched himself in the weak sun and panted. Elizabeth sat beside him, relishing the opportunity to rest her feet.

"I hope we get the chance to rest a bit before night," Alistair said, and yawned before sitting beside her. Morrigan remained standing, frowning at the fishermen practicing their archery.

Elizabeth, though resting, stared up at the cliffside above them. "If they come from the castle, they will have the high ground the entire way down, unless we can stall them at the end of the bridge."

"Yes?" Alistair mumbled, lying back and putting an arm over his eyes.

She poked him. "I'm trying to come up with things to suggest to Teagan, though he's probably already thought of them all. Do pay attention."

"But it's hard," he whined. "Just point me in the direction of these undead and I'll kill all the ones I can."

"That's how I would like to think," Elizabeth said, "but that is not good enough for planning a battle. Do you suppose that is how my grandfather defeated Tarleton Howe at Harper's Ford, by charging into battle blindly?"

"I guess not…"

"Don't mind him," Morrigan said lightly. "Ignorance is bliss, after all."

"That's what the Templars used to tell me, anyway," he grumbled, opening one eye and peering up at her.

"Oh, that's right," Elizabeth said. "You forgot to mention that, too."

"Did I?" He sat up again, shamefaced. "I completely forgot, honestly. I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "Do you know much of a Templar's magic-cancelling abilites?"

"Some. I had almost completed my training when Duncan recruited me. Some of them were happy to see me go, as I… caused a lot of trouble."

"That is hardly surprising," Morrigan commented.

"The Revered Mother, though, she was furious. I think she knew about the 'Maric's son' thing and wanted to keep me under her thumb. I almost though she'd have an apoplectic fit when Duncan took me away." He chuckled. "Hope she did, the old bat."

"So if we encountered mages fighting us, you wouldn't mind using your abilities, would you?"

"No, not at all. That's a good idea in fact. But Morrigan had better watch out she's not standing too close to me when I do, or I might 'accidentally' cancel her spells too."

"As if I'd stand too close to you," Morrigan huffed.

The heavy wooden double doors opened, and Bann Teagan appeared. "Lady Elizabeth?"

"Here," she said, climbing to her feet. "I sent two of my group to look around the village. Is that all right?"

"Lady Elizabeth, you are in charge of your own affairs, and I shall not interfere in anything you do to help us. Now, let's have a look around, shall we?"

The village's defenses were pitifully few and shabby. "I know it's not much," Teagan said, "but I'm hoping if we can survive this night, that I will be able to head into the castle tomorrow and deal with whatever I find there."

"The monsters come from the castle itself, yes?"

"Yes, they come across the bridge. I will be dividing the forces here into two groups. Ser Perth and his knights and I shall defend the end of the bridge as long as we can, while the militia will defend the chantry yard should they get past us – or should they come from another direction."

"Then I will do the same," Elizabeth said. "Leliana and Huan will stay with the militia, and Alistair, Morrigan, Sten, and I shall fight with you."

"If I may be so bold, my lady, you should stay with the militia. You may claim you are no longer a Cousland because you are a Grey Warden, but Ferelden will not see it that way…" He wanted to say something else, she could tell, and was holding back from politeness. She decided to say it for him.

"Lord Teagan, I am a warrior first now. I will not hide behind my companion's swords when my own sword can help them. I have been well-trained, and while I still feel myself lacking in experience, I am not without strength and courage. Just because I am the daughter of a teyrn, even were I not a Grey Warden, does not mean I cannot or should not fight."

Teagan looked taken aback. "I apologize, my lady. You are very perceptive, and I am justly chastised. You may fight where you will, and I will trust your judgement."

She smiled. "Thank you, my lord."

"Please, let us not stand on formality. Call me Teagan."

"Then you must call me Elizabeth." Elizabeth could feel Morrigan's eyes rolling in an exaggerated fashion without even turning to look at her.

Leliana and Sten had returned. "There are a number of barrels of lamp oil in the abandoned general store," Leliana said. "Might it not slow down the undead to set them on fire?"

"I also recruited a few to our cause," Sten said.

"Don't worry, he didn't hurt anyone," Leliana added, with a peculiar gleeful smile that Elizabeth couldn't interpret.

"I like the oil idea," Teagan said to Leliana. "Let me consult with Ser Perth on how to deal with this. In the meantime, there are a few things I could use your help with," he said to Elizabeth. "There are a few in the village who need… persuading. They will not listen to me, but perhaps they will listen to you."

"What do you need?" Elizabeth asked.

"Dwyn is a dwarf mercenary with several companions, but they have all holed up in his house just off the main square." Teagan pointed. "If you could convince him to come out and fight alongside us, it could go a long way towards survival, both his and ours. The other who needs persuading is Owen, the blacksmith. We need his skills to mend and improve armour and arms for the militia, but his daughter is still in the castle and the old fool has sunk into a drunken stupor."

"I will see what I can do," Elizabeth said. "Is there anything else?"

Teagan shrugged. "If you think of anything, let me know – otherwise, get your rest. The undead will attack at nightfall."

Elizabeth bowed to him, and he to her, and she told the others to find a place to rest before setting off towards Dwyn's house. Alistair refused to rest yet and came with her.

It turned out all Dwyn needed was the jingle of coin to attract him, or so Elizabeth thought – until she returned to Teagan to ask for the money and discovered he had tried the same thing. "He wants a pretty face to persuade him, I think," Teagan said with a half-smile. Elizabeth shrugged and returned to Dwyn with the money.

Owen was harder to reason with. She spent a good five minutes pleading through the smithy's keyhole before he eventually opened the door and let Alistair and her inside.

The alcohol fumes nearly made her choke; she had never been inside a place that smelled so thickly before.

"Somebody's been drinking," Alistair said in a sing-song voice. "Will he really be any help in this state?"

"Ser?" she said.

An old man was standing near the forge in the centre of the room, his back to them. "Whaddya want? I'm not doing anything for ye, you unnerstand that, right?"

"Why is that?" Elizabeth asked. "The village desperately needs your help."

"Why should I do anything for Murdock, when 'e won't do anything for me?" The old man lurched around towards them. "My girl, Valena, she's one of the ar… ar… arlessa's maids up at the castle, but, that man won't send anyone to find her and get her out! She's been my life since my wife passed on two years ago! Now she's dead… or… or soon to be… Why should I care what 'appens to me, or the village, or anyone?"

"I am going to the castle tomorrow," Elizabeth said soothingly. "I will search for your daughter."

"Tomorrow!? Why not today?"

She didn't really know, that was a good point. "Bann Teagan thinks that it will be safer and easier tomorrow, if we can hold out tonight."

"You don't really care… you're just trying to twist me into 'elping." Owen hiccuped, his face creased in lines of grief. "Murdock said 'e'd do 'is best, and what has that got done? Nothing!"

She stepped closer and took the smith's hand. "Ser… my father has a daughter, and I know he would worry over me greatly just as you do over Valena. I promise I will find her, no matter what happens."

Owen stared at her for a while. "You'd really do that? You really promise?"

"I promise, ser," she said.

Owen nodded for a few minutes. "Right then. I'd better get the forge warmed up. Tell that fool Murdock to send some men over for gear as soon as he can."

"Thank you, ser."

"Thank me by finding my daughter. That's all I ask."

She nodded and left, Alistair close behind her.

"That was sweet," he said.

"What was?"

"The part about fathers and daughters."

"That was… the entire conversation," she said.

"I know, but just… it was sweet."

"That's nice," she said kindly. "Let's sleep before night comes."

.

Night came all too swiftly, and it was not long before Elizabeth was shaken awake where she curled in a corner of the chantry cushioned on Huan, by Morrigan.

"No dreams at this time, I hope?" Morrigan asked with a sardonic smile.

"N-no, I don't think so," Elizabeth said blearily. She dimly recalled a feeling of unease, but it was certainly not a full-blown nightmare like before. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and climbed to her feet. "Is it nearly time?" Huan stood and shook himself vigorously before yawning.

"The lordling thinks there is a little time yet," Morrigan said. "Perhaps time to get something to eat, and move your cramped limbs."

"Thank you, Morrigan," Elizabeth said, and fumbled in her pouch for some of her dried rations.

Still chewing, she went outside to find Teagan.

Teagan was placing the militiamen around the chantry yard. "Ah, Elizabeth, good to see you. Are your people ready to go?"

"Almost," she said, though she could see Sten and Alistair were ready, and Morrigan was certainly ready. She looked around, trying to find Leliana, and found the young woman sitting on the edge of the chantry's roof, testing her bow.

Elizabeth knelt beside Huan. "Now you're going to stay here with Leliana, all right? Defend her, and defend these people. I'm going to go up ahead, but I'll be back soon, hopefully."

He whined sadly.

"I will be all right, I promise. I have strong comrades. That's why I trust you to stay here and keep an eye on things, all right?"

He gave a yip and licked her face. She smiled involuntarily and got up to head over to Teagan. "I think we are ready now."

"Good! We should take our places before it begins."

"'It'?"

"When the monsters begin their attack, a strange green glow rises from the castle." Teagan took a lantern and led the way up the steep winding road to the top of the cliff. "Dozens of them rush from the castle. Not too many, perhaps, but with the knights scattered, and Eamon's army spread across his realm preparing for the darkspawn… maybe too many for us alone."

He was wearing heavy chainmail, and carried both a bow on his back and a sword at his side. But in the dark, his hair, and his shoulders, his demeanour were so like to…

She inhaled a little sharply at the association. Teagan heard and turned back to her. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine," she said. "It's only that… in the dark like this, you remind me so very much of… my brother."

"Yes… my sympathies. I hear he was among the casualties of Ostagar…"

"I do not know for certain if he died in the battle or not," Elizabeth said. "But I have little hope of finding him alive now."

"Keep some hope," Teagan advised her. "Fergus Cousland is a worthy man. If you do not know for certain that he is dead, I think he may return to you yet."

"You didn't see the armies of darkspawn," she said in a low voice. "I barely saw them myself. But if he is alive… No, my fear for him would be too great."

"Hope is painful," Teagan acknowledged. "Especially after the great loss you've suffered already. And speaking of which, if you require help against Arl Howe, let me know and I shall aid you with all I can. I never liked him anyway."

"Thank you," she said.

"That's assuming we defeat these undead," Morrigan said sharply. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves with all these noble little alliances and polite niceties."

"Yes, indeed," Teagan said, chuckling. "Here is our barricade; the oil has been poured over the ground ahead, so watch your step. I will light it up when the time is right."

"I think the time is right," Alistair said, his voice wavering. "That would be really interesting, if it weren't Redcliffe!" Alistair was right. The courtyard of Redcliffe Castle was lit up by a brilliant, poisonous green glow, and Elizabeth could hear inhuman noises – howls and the scrape of things along stone – and she began to see movement at the mouth of the castle.

"Brace yourselves," Ser Perth advised them, his great two-handed sword at the ready.

Elizabeth's eyes opened wide. There were figures, shrieking figures rushing towards them along the long bridge of the castle. Beside her, Teagan, steady as a rock, drew the bow from his shoulder, ignited a specially-prepared arrow at his lantern, and fired at the ground just ahead of the skeletal shapes.

Instantly, a blaze of fire whooshed up, and the front ranks of skeletons were engulfed.

They kept coming, but there was a crack from near Elizabeth and Morrigan sent a bolt of lightning playing over them as the glow of a magic sigil appeared in the ground under them. Three or four of the skeletons dropped instantly, and a few of the others staggered.

Teagan fired a few more arrows, unerringly striking skulls backlit by the fire. "Let's take out as many as we can before they get to us!"

But there would be plenty to go around when they reached the barricade, Elizabeth realized. She took a firmer grip on her sword.

With a rush, the undead were upon them. Teagan reslung his bow on his back and whipped out his sword and shield. Elizabeth slammed her shield into one's face and followed with a skull-cracking blow of her sword, and drew back her strike with a gasp. Another skeleton had stabbed at her while she was attacking the first one, and its rusted sword had cut through her armoured glove at a seam in the plates; now it felt like a line of fire was carved on the back of her hand.

Alistair decapitated that one. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, slightly annoyed that this was the most common question she was asked these days. "I can still fight."

The skeletons marched on, a baleful light in their eyes, their jaws gaping open as their unearthly howl echoed around the cliffs of the lake edge. The horror of it was affecting her, but still she raised her sword, almost on instinct.

The fire was beginning to die down as she deflected another sword, and then dodged a spear. Elizabeth heard Morrigan yelp, and then another lightning bolt played out over the skeletons.

"More oil!" Teagan cried, and Ser Perth and another knight began to lift a barrel over the barricade to heave it onto the fire.

Sten stopped them. "Give that to me." Single-handedly, the giant lifted the barrel over his shoulder, and then hurled it onto the fire, which blazed up again more furiously than ever. Skeletons collapsed under the force of the heat, and more than a few had been knocked apart by the barrel itself.

The barricade was beginning to fail; it shuddered and shook increasingly flimsily under the blows of the undead. But Elizabeth could see the skeletons beginning to thin in their charge from the castle, though the castle itself had not lost its green glow.

A spear jabbed through the lower part of the barricade and struck Alistair in the leg, and he gasped and fell to one knee, holding his shield above his head. Three skeletons lunged at him, and Elizabeth frantically battered them back.

"I'm all right!" Alistair assured them, climbing carefully to his feet. "Just a scratch!"

The skeletons were beginning to slow their assault, just as she had expected. She was just thinking they would be able to successfully hold out when Elizabeth heard enraged barking from the village below. "Huan!"

"The village is under assault," Sten's calm voice reported. "It seems some skeletons also crossed the lakebed to attack from the shore."

"Just a little longer up here and then we can go to them," Teagan said. "They have a few strong fighters… they'll have to hold on a moment."

Elizabeth looked around. They could spare a couple fighters, by her estimation. "Sten, Morrigan, can you go down right away?" she said. "We have things up here for now."

"As you say," Sten said, crushing the skull of one skeleton with his maul before marching back down the cliff. Morrigan was ahead of him, bounding lightly down the trail to the circle of light in the centre of the village where shouts and screams and the clash of weapons now rose to their ears.

The skeletons kept up the pressure, so much so that when the last one had fallen, Elizabeth nearly fell forward from the lack of resistance.

"Now back!" Teagan cried. "Back to the village with all speed!"

Running down the trail was a lot easier than climbing up it, though Elizabeth sacrificed a little bit of speed to make sure she didn't trip on a rock and land flat on her face.

As they burst into the ring of light, charging into the skeletons from the flank and the back, Elizabeth heard a petrified scream right ahead of her. A boy, perhaps a couple years younger than her, had been knocked down and a skeleton was looming over him, blade poised to strike. Elizabeth smashed the skeleton to one side and took up a position in front of the boy. "Get up! And get behind me!" He wibbled and she knew he was on the verge of bolting. "Get behind me and stay there!" If he was there, she could look after him and he could watch her flanks. If he ran, she couldn't protect him and he would probably get himself killed in his current state of panic.

The skeleton she had knocked aside had righted itself and lashed out while she was yelling at the boy. She gasped as she felt a flash of pain across her left cheek and brought her shield back into position before counterattacking. The skeleton blocked her blow with inhuman strength, but she flipped her sword under its guard and stabbed into its ribcage, shattering its spine.

There were not so many skeletons down here; they had not expected an organized defense, it seemed. As dawn's grey light slowly lightened the east, they faded away into dust. The boy hiding behind Elizabeth mumbled a heart-felt thanks and scampered for the chantry.

"How is this possible?" Elizabeth asked Morrigan, wearily sitting on the edge of the porch. "How does a skeleton walk?"

"You ask me?" Morrigan said, raising an eyebrow. "You do not think I have done such a thing, do you?"

"I do not know how great your power is," Elizabeth said. "But I know little of magic, and you know much. They are… they are not alive, but I don't understand…"

"It is not possible to raise the dead to life," Morrigan said, more gently than Elizabeth had expected. "But," she went on more briskly, "It is possible that spirits from the Fade sometimes cross the Veil into this world; many come of their own desire to experience the world of men, and some are commanded by foolish mages. And when they come, it may come to pass that they bind themselves to… things. The ones who bind themselves to people, mostly mages who are most vulnerable to them, become abominations of great power and it would be a good thing if you kept your distance from those."

She looked up at the sky, thinking. "Some really unlucky, weak, or stupid ones can bind themselves to trees or other inanimate things, and while they are not powerless, they are considerably less threatening than abominations or the third option, which is for them to bind themselves to animals or dead people. They cannot tell the difference between a living body and a dead one, even a long dead one… A corpse possessed by a lesser demon has little intelligence, but they are usually filled with great rage and a desire to destroy. And the ones possessed by the strongest demons are known as revenants, and should be avoided as much as abominations, for they have also great cunning."

Elizabeth digested this. "Thank you. That was very informative."

"It is a rough summary," Morrigan dismissed it. "You will need to know these things as a Grey Warden. I cannot hold your hand forever." Her smile was mocking, but Elizabeth's was genuine.

"So where did all _these_ skeletons come from?" Leliana asked wonderingly.

"Oh, that's easy," Alistair said. "Redcliffe Castle is vital to the defense of Ferelden, so many battles have been fought here. It stands to reason there are a few skeletons here and there."

"What a droll understatement," Leliana said drily. "Oh! You are injured. Let me have a look at that." She went to Elizabeth with bandages and began to inspect her face and hand. Elizabeth had almost forgotten about her injuries, sustained hours ago, but now that Leliana mentioned it, they began to throb again.

"I've been injured too," Alistair said plaintively, stretching out his leg.

"Get in line," Leliana said with good humour.

Bann Teagan had ascended the chantry steps. "Well done, my friends!" he cried. "Dawn arrives, and we have survived the night. We are victorious!" The tired villagers cheered, and those inside the chantry cheered, opening the heavy door and peeking around it. "And it would never have been possible were it not for the heroism of the good folk who joined us at the eleventh hour!" He gestured to Elizabeth, who quickly put on her 'gracious' face and bowed her head to him. Morrigan rolled her eyes, and Alistair and Leliana grinned shyly. Huan barked and wagged his tail so enthusiastically he almost knocked Leliana over.

"I thank you, dear lady," Teagan said more personally to Elizabeth. "The Maker truly smiled on us when he sent you here in our darkest hour." He turned back to the crowd assembled in front of the chantry. "With the Maker's favour, the defense we have mounted is enough that I may enter the castle and seek your arl. Be wary and watch for signs of renewed attack. I shall return with news as soon as I am able. "

"Be safe, Lord Teagan," said the Revered Mother of the chantry. Ser Perth began to organize the villagers.

Teagan turned to Elizabeth and her company. "Now we shall go to the castle."

They hiked up the path to the castle bridge again, and Teagan halted in amazement, for there was a figure running across the bridge – but this one was slender and clad in pale pink and blue. "Lady Isolde!"

"Teagan!" the woman almost sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. "Oh, Teagan, thank the Maker you're here! It's horrible…"

Teagan put his hands on Isolde's shoulders in a steadying gesture. "What is happening in the castle?"

"I… I am not allowed to tell you," Isolde said wretchedly, her Orlesian accent growing stronger in her distress. "I was only allowed out for a moment, to beg you to come with me… But you alone," she said, glancing at the others. "If others come with you, it will be… angry."

"It?" Teagan asked with great concern.

"A terrible evil within the castle. The dead awaken and hunt the living. The mage responsible was caught, but still it continues. Anyone who tries to escape is torn to pieces. I was only allowed out because I promised I would be back immediately. I begged, yes, I begged for Connor's sake."

"But you are still all right? What about Connor and Eamon?"

"They are… safe… for now… But I fear for Connor; I think he is going mad! He has seen so much death… I know it must be dangerous, and I know perhaps you do not trust me, all secretive like this, but… Teagan, you _must_ come back with me, I beg you!"

"Yes, yes, of course I shall," Teagan said, with a glance at Elizabeth. "But just give me a moment to speak with my companions."

"Who are these people?" Isolde asked tremulously.

"These are Grey Wardens, and… their friends. The lady is Elizabeth Cousland, and I believe you know…"

"Hello, Lady Isolde," Alistair said awkwardly.

"Hello, Alistair," she said distractedly.

"Er… this is a bad time for a reunion. Let's just say I'll do whatever I can to help you and Arl Eamon."

Isolde nodded and drew back a pace, and Teagan came to speak in a low voice to Elizabeth. "There is a secret passage into the castle, of course. Would you use it to get inside? I do not know what you shall find there but if I can keep Eamon and his family, my family, alive by my presence, then I will do that, no matter the danger."

"I understand," Elizabeth said. "Where can I find this secret passage?"

"It's in the windmill," Teagan said, gesturing at it with a flick of his eyes and nothing else. "Take my signet ring; it will allow you entrance."

"Thank you," she said. "I will come as swiftly as I may."

"Be careful," he said. "Whatever's inside the castle may have found the other end of the passage – I doubt it, but it is best to be prepared for all eventualities. And I fear that all the survivors inside may be used as hostages. But I would feel much better if I knew you were coming to be my back-up."

"We will be there," Elizabeth said. "Do not fear for us."

"And remember… Eamon is the priority. Isolde, me, even Connor… we're all expendable. Just get my brother out alive."

"I'll get you all out alive," Elizabeth promised.

He nodded and turned to Isolde. "I'm ready. Let's go."

Isolde gave a fearful glance at Elizabeth and turned to lead Teagan back into the castle at an anxious trot.

Elizabeth turned away and went back down the cliff, not hurrying as long as the bridge was in view. Ser Perth was climbing the hill and they met outside the windmill.

"What's happened?" Ser Perth asked with confusion. "Where's Lord Teagan?"

"He has gone to the castle alone with Lady Isolde," Elizabeth said. "There is some evil inside that… I don't understand."

"I think it's a demon," commented Morrigan. "As I was telling you earlier."

"Maker forbid!" exclaimed Alistair and Ser Perth in the same breath.

"It allowed Lady Isolde to ask Teagan to return with her… but Teagan asked that I sneak in using a secret passage into the castle."

"I see," Ser Perth said. "What would you like me to do?"

She blinked. "What would I want you to do?"

"Lord Teagan has left you in charge, has he not?"

She didn't recall that being part of the plan. "Then come with us through this passage. Once we're inside, you may guide me to the courtyard."

"I follow your command, my lady."

The passage was through a trapdoor at the bottom of the mill, and then when Elizabeth pressed Teagan's signet ring to a curious depression in the stone foundations of the mill, she heard a click and a wall shifted slightly. Perth and Sten pushed it back and they continued, after Leliana lit her lantern.

The first part was a cramped, winding stair that seemed to go down an interminable degree. Just when Elizabeth thought her shoulders would cramp if they had to go on any longer, it began to straighten out and the ceiling grew slightly taller. Alistair was grumbling under his breath, and she wondered how hard it was on him, taller and with an injured leg. And Sten was taller still. "Either this is a trap," said he, "or the defenders of this castle are idiots. I suspect both." Perth did not answer him.

"I wonder who built this tunnel, and why," Leliana commented, her voice echoing down the long dark hall. "It's quite impressive. I believe it must go under the lake!"

"It's more impressive than the secret passage out of Highever," Elizabeth agreed. "That one was only cleverly disguised at both ends. This is a lot more than that."

After another interminable period of moving laterally, they began to climb again, the passage meandering up through the stone until it ended in a false wall of wooden slats.

Everyone was tensely silent as Elizabeth cautiously pushed them aside and stepped out into the dimness of a cellar. She stood a moment and listened, but could hear nothing amiss in the chambers nearby. Gesturing for the others to follow her, she went to the one door in the room and waited for Perth to join her.

The subterranean passages of Redcliffe Castle were a somewhat confusing maze of storage rooms and empty dungeons.

Well, maybe not so empty…

As they clattered through the dark corridors, there was a rustle of cloth, the pale flash of a waving hand, from one of the cells. "E-excuse me…!"

Elizabeth came to a halt. "Who are you and how are you not dead?"

The dark-haired man gave her a melancholy smile. "The undead don't bother the living unless the living bother them. My name is Jowan…"

"You're the mage Lord Eamon had on staff," Ser Perth said accusingly. "You know something about this mess, don't you!?"

"Isolde said the mage responsible had been caught," Elizabeth said slowly. "That must be you?"

"More or less," said the man, sweating lightly. "I mean… I… In a way, yes. But also no."

"Speak plainer," Perth growled.

The man hung his head. "I don't suppose there's any hiding any of it now… I'm going to be executed anyway, aren't I."

"Probably," Morrigan said cheerfully. "Let me guess: you didn't mean to summon a demon, or you meant to just a little bit, and got more than you bargained for."

"Sort of," Jowan said again. "Let me start at the beginning. You will need to hear this if you're going to fight it."

"I'm listening," Elizabeth said calmly.

"I was hired by Arlessa Isolde to teach her son, Connor, magic," Jowan began.

"Lord Connor is-" Perth's eyes widened. "Impossible."

Jowan shook his head. "No, not impossible… and the boy has talent, too. But that's why she hired me, you see. She couldn't bear to let her son be taken off to the Circle Tower, and I have to say, I sympathize with that… She just wanted me to teach him enough to keep his talent hidden. His father had no idea."

"I see," Elizabeth said. "What happened next?"

"When his father fell ill…" his eyes slid away from hers. "Connor was very upset. He… was not yet strong enough to resist the demon who approached him, and I wasn't… able to help him."

"Why not?" Elizabeth asked.

"I wasn't with him at the time," Jowan said. "Er… I was already in here."

"Hold up," Alistair interrupted. "Why's that?"

"Indeed," Perth said grimly. "I don't recall any of this."

Jowan backed away from the cell bars. "I… I was hired by Lord Loghain a few weeks ago to come here and ensure that Arl Eamon wouldn't be at Ostagar."

"Ensure…" Perth's eyes widened. "You've been poisoning him! That's what my lord has been ill!" The knight was shouting, and Jowan cringed.

"You would poison a good man on Loghain's word?" Elizabeth asked, her eyes darkening.

"I wasn't happy about it, but he would have sent me back to the Circle Tower! They'll kill me there, or close enough! Do you know what a Tranquil is? It's a lobotomized mage!"

"Why would Loghain…" Alistair muttered.

"He said something about 'troops in reserve', 'threat to Ferelden', I don't know," Jowan said. "I'm sorry, really I am. I… was a complete fool about everything, that's what Surana always said, I never think things through properly…"

"I'll say," Morrigan snorted.

"But I do want to make things better." Jowan wrung his hands. "However I can. Really. I-I know I'm not being very convincing. But… please, let me come with you to fight the demon, it's the least I can do. You can kill me if I mess up, but I really want to help. Except please don't actually kill me, I also really want to live."

Elizabeth stared at him for a few moments, evaluating situations.

"No!" Perth cried. "He's crazy! He's lying!"

"He's not lying," Elizabeth said slowly.

"I think we should leave him here to rot, even so," Alistair said loudly, and Perth nodded. "Let the undead or Eamon or Teagan deal with him."

"Is that Alistair talking, or the templar?" Morrigan retorted. "If you have no need of him, I would say let him go."

"He's an apostate who served Loghain! You can't just let him go!" Alistair argued.

"Everyone deserves a chance at redemption," Leliana said.

Sten grunted. "Even a bas saarebas?"

"I don't know what that is," Leliana said, and Sten did not explain.

"But you are a coward," Morrigan said to Jowan, red lips curling disdainfully.

"Y-yes, I know," Jowan said. "And a fool. Many times over. I still want to help if I'm able."

"You shall help us," Elizabeth said. "Let him out."

"We'll all regret this," Perth said, but did as she asked.

Jowan stepped carefully out of his cell and bowed to her. "I promise I will help however I can."

"Good," Elizabeth said. "I will be frank: I don't want to set you free, after learning that you worked for Loghain. But you have better knowledge of the monster we're about to face than any of us have."

"What did Loghain do?" Jowan asked warily.

"Only left King Cailan to die at Ostagar and then framed the Grey Wardens for it," growled Alistair.

"Ah," said Jowan. "I'm terribly sorry."

"We're not letting him fight, are we?" Alistair asked.

"I can take care of myself in a pinch," Jowan said. "I understand you don't trust me. You don't have to give me a weapon."

"Ah, so you're not just a free mage, but a blood mage as well," Morrigan said shrewdly.

Jowan froze.

"What?" Alistair said, his expression darkening even more. "And we're letting him come with us!?"

"What exactly is a blood mage?" asked Elizabeth.

"A _maleficar_ ," said Alistair, "is a mage who uses blood to fuel his spells. Usually his own blood."

"As long as it's not the blood of our allies, and only as a last resort, I see no reason to go back on my decision," Elizabeth said. "I feel we need every help we can get, dealing with a demon."

"Very wise of you," Morrigan said, while Alistair rolled his eyes with frustration.

"Thank you," Jowan said meekly. "I won't give you cause to regret it."

"If that is settled," Elizabeth said, and led the way further down the dungeon.

They were attacked once, surrounded by nearly two dozen skeletons, but their numbers were enough to repulse them without major injuries. Aside from that incident, they almost made it to the courtyard door without incident, conversing in low voices, when Elizabeth heard the scrape of a door.

They turned and saw a young woman in maid's clothes peeking through the door of a storage room. "S-ser Perth?"

"Brunhilde," Perth said. "Are you alone?"

"No, ser. A-are we safe…?"

"I think you might be," Perth said. "Certainly, the path to the secret passage is clear. Who else is in there?"

"Gwen, Valena, Tricia, Rose, and Hugh," said the girl, pushing open the door.

"Valena?" Elizabeth said. "Your father is dreadfully worried about you. As soon as you are out of the castle you should go to him directly."

The girl named Valena started. "He's all right? Oh, thank you… We've been so scared in here! We haven't had anything to eat in two days, not since we hid in here!"

"Eugene," Perth said, "there shouldn't be anything between us and the secret passage. Escort these folk there and to the village."

"Yes, ser!"

"Well, that's one good thing," Leliana said cheerfully. "I'm glad for them."

Elizabeth nodded and pushed open the door to the courtyard.

A blazing stream of sunlight met them, and she blinked.

And her feet left the ground as she was brutally hauled forward by an invisible force. She shouted in surprise and alarm, a shout that went dramatically up in pitch as she saw a tall armoured undead readying a massive sword to impale her.

She could not stop her flight through the air, but she could bring her shield around, angle it so that killing strike was deflected or at least less fatal…

The clash shook her to her bones and echoed around the courtyard, but she fell to the ground, her arm bruised but intact, a deep new gouge marring the heraldry of her shield that meant the large rusty sword had been driven aside.

She was surrounded by skeletons, some with swords and shields, some with bows, and that one tall armoured one with baleful red eyes. The others were still on the other side of the courtyard, but here came Huan with a ferocious growl, and the others were rushing to her aid… lightning cracked, and two skeletons fell by Morrigan's spell.

Her shield came up again in time to block another strike from the revenant, and her sword whipped out to parry another skeleton by sheer reflex. Something struck her in the back but her armour held, though she grunted.

"Here!" Alistair shouted, Sten and Perth beside him, driving the skeletons away from her back. "It's just like being home again," he joked as he joined her side. "Except with more undead."

It was all she could do to keep the revenant at bay; its blows drove her back easily, and she couldn't get her sword in for a counterattack at all.

And now the others were surrounding it. Leliana's arrows and Morrigan's spells and the other knights were holding back the skeletons, but the four of them were facing the revenant, and it seemed to have no trouble with that at all.

Huan leapt on its back, jaws snapping at its neck, and the sword swung around, sending her dog flying with a pained howl. But before she could attack, it had swung its sword around again, sending her, Alistair, and Perth back a step.

Sten was ready for the swipe, and knocked the sword downwards with his maul. Alistair recovered first, his sword arcing towards the revenant's face. It ducked, but Elizabeth was already charging with shield out, and managed to knock it back a pace.

It was too fast for all of them, too fast and too strong. How would they defeat it? They couldn't so much as wound it… Perhaps if they knocked even one piece off it, it would become easier to defeat.

Perth swung his two-hander grimly at its right side, and as it blocked him, Sten stepped up and whacked its left arm off. But the giant rusted sword swung around, Alistair ducked, and Sten caught it with his own left arm. He didn't lose the arm, but staggered back, bleeding badly.

"Stay back!" Elizabeth cried to him, pressing their slight advantage. There might only be three of them now, but it was missing an arm now, so it would be off-balance. And now Huan was back in the fray, leaping at its wounded side, tearing at the stump of a shoulder before being shaken off again – but that was time enough for Alistair to stagger it by knocking its sword back with his shield and kicking it in the torso.

The rusted greatsword swung around again, the air whistling in its wake, and Perth blocked it, using a hand on his hilt and a hand on his blade to give him greater force. Some sort of rune glimmered under the revenant's feet briefly before Elizabeth swung at its sword arm, attempting to sever it as well, and Alistair threw caution to the wind and stabbed it full in the chest while Perth used his hilt to entangle the sword.

It withered, pieces falling to the ground, and ancient robes disintegrating. The greatsword burst in pieces as it struck the cobbles.

It seemed the rest of the courtyard had been cleared; many of the skeletons were sporting Leliana's arrows in their skulls, and some had been crushed by the other knights if they had not been exploded with one of Morrigan's spells. Jowan huddled behind all of them, essentially defenseless.

Elizabeth took only as long as she needed to establish nothing moved but the living before hurrying to the stairs into the castle. "Quickly!"

She flung the door open and burst into the throne room, lurching to a halt as she took in what she saw. Alistair nearly piled into her.

Bann Teagan was tumbling about the room, singing nonsense syllables in a foolish voice as he did. Behind him, in front of the great fireplace, a boy of about ten stood with his arms crossed, a bored, haughty look on his face that did not fit a child. Isolde stood near the boy, her face buried in her hands and shoulders shaking. Several human guards stood at the sides of the room, completely stone-faced in a way that told Elizabeth that their wills were not their on, as Teagan's was not his own.

Teagan struck a final pose and crawled to the feet of the boy, sitting on the step beside him with a ridiculous look on his face. The boy squinted at her and she strode closer to him, frowning to hide the fear she felt coiling around her heart.

"So you are the one who's been destroying my servants!" the boy said, and she felt a shiver run down her spine, because there was a deep, dark echo behind his words.

"I am," she said firmly, as the others lined up beside her. "We have come to set you free, Lord Connor."

"Connor is- Connor is not himself!" Isolde gasped. "I beg your forgiveness for the deception…"

"Release Lord Connor!" Ser Perth cried. "Or…"

"Or what?" the demon grinned. "You'll hurt me? If you do, you'll kill your precious child long before I feel a thing." It turned back to Elizabeth. "Mother, what is this thing? It's staring at me and I cannot see it clearly."

"That is a woman, Connor," Isolde said quietly, tears running down her face.

"Is that all?" The demon frowned and Elizabeth raised her chin slightly. "I doubt your words… but if she is indeed only a woman, I wonder you do not have her killed from jealousy! She is much younger and prettier than you! Wouldn't you like to remove her?"

"Connor, I beg you… don't hurt anyone!" Isolde cried, kneeling at her son's side.

Connor shook his head woozily. "M-mother…? What's going on…" His voice was higher, anxious, without the ominous current running through it.

"Connor! Connor, can you hear me?"

The boy stiffened, with a horrible curl of his lip. "Get away from me, idiot woman! You are beginning to bore me!"

Isolde turned to them. "Please… don't hurt him, if you can. He is not in control of his actions!"

"I understand," Elizabeth said. Her heart was aching for the frightened mother and the terrified controlled boy. "But I don't know how we can save him." She glared at the demon. "What have you done with Teagan?"

"Heeeeere I am!" Teagan drawled in an overly exaggerated voice. "Heeeeere am I!" He laughed heartily.

"I like him better this way," the demon said, almost earnestly. "No more yelling, now he amuses me!" He, too, laughed.

"It's not his fault," Isolde said softly. "He was just trying to help his father…"

"And made a deal with a demon? Foolish child," Morrigan snorted.

"It was a fair deal!" the demon protested. "Father is alive, just like I wanted. Now it's my turn to sit on the throne and send out armies to fight and conquer! Nobody tells me what to do ever again!"

"Noooobody tells him what to do!" Teagan put in cheerfully with an exaggerated chortle. "Nooobody!"

"Shut up!" the demon snapped. "You're beginning to bore me too. But let's keep things civil. You, woman, will have the audience you have fought for. What have you come to my castle to seek?"

Elizabeth hesitated. There were many reasons she had come, but one of them was more important than the others right now. "I came to set you free, as I said."

"What a stupid reason! I am as free as I ever was! More free, in fact! Don't you think so, Mother?"

"I…" Isolde stammered. "I don't think…"

"Of course you don't. Stupid woman. Ever since you sent the knights away you've done nothing but deprive me of my fun, but you won't get in my way this time. This other woman ruined my game by saving that stupid little village, and now she'll pay!" The demon waved a hand, and the guards against the walls drew their swords. As Isolde shrank back into a corner of the room with a frightened, breathless scream, Teagan also stood, seizing the sword that still hung at his back, and advanced on the group. The demon fled the room; Elizabeth had no time to watch him.

She charged at Teagan, uncertain of what she could do to defeat him without hurting him, but certain that she and no other had to fight him. While the other knights struggled with the mind-controlled guards, she parried Teagan's strike and withstood the blow of his shield. If she could only disarm him…

Teagan's attacks seemed slower, less confident than the way he had fought the night before; perhaps it was fatigue, or perhaps he was fighting the demon's control.

If she managed to knock him out, would it succeed in breaking the demon's hold, or in securing it?

She had to try; there was no other option.

She sidestepped within Teagan's range, and if she wasn't fast enough, his blade would be able to strike at her head… Her shield whipped out, mercilessly, once, twice, three times, and Teagan dropped to the floor.

She turned to see what she could do with the rest of the battle, but it was over; two of the guards had been knocked out; one was bleeding heavily, slumped against the wall, and one was being wrestled to the ground by two of the knights. Huan trotted up to her and nuzzled her hand.

Morrigan was kneeling beside Teagan. "I think you've given him a concussion. Well done! I hope you didn't want him too intact."

"Oh dear," Elizabeth said, kneeling on his other side. "It's not that bad, is it?"

As if in answer, Teagan's eyes fluttered open and he groaned. "Ach… What… what happened?"

"I knocked you down," Elizabeth said, wringing her hands slightly. "I'm so sorry! Are you all right?"

He chuckled breathlessly and struggled to sit up, even though his eyes were crossing dazedly; she helped him. "It's not the first time I've been knocked out, not even by a beautiful lady. I seem to be myself again, and for that I am grateful. Where is Connor?"

Isolde crept forward from the corner she had hidden in. "Teagan?"

"Isolde! Are you unharmed?"

"I am…" Isolde burst into tears. "I'm so sorry, Teagan! I did not want that done to you. I did not want any of this!"

"Shh, shh," Teagan soothed his sister-in-law. "I forgive you and Connor. It's not your fault."

"But it is," Isolde sobbed. "My Connor is a mage, and it was my fear that led to this pass…"

"I understand it is very difficult," Teagan said. "But let us thank Lady Elizabeth and her companions, and Ser Perth and his knights for saving us."

"We're certainly not done here yet," Morrigan said. "Did you not say the Arl was the most important person to save? And that demon-possessed boy's run off."

"Oh, I hope he's all right," Isolde said. "I hope they are both all right. But what can we do?"

"I… may have some options," Jowan said hesitantly.

Isolde snarled. "You! What are you doing out of your cell!?" Elizabeth helped Teagan to his feet and hurriedly filled him in on who and what Jowan was.

"Um… helping." Jowan twisted his hands together. "Making up as best I can for the terrible mistakes I've made…"

"Nothing can make up for what you've done! This is all your fault!"

"I know, I know, I agree with you… but I want to do what I can."

"At least listen to him," Morrigan said. "Do what you will afterwards."

"Lady Elizabeth?" Teagan asked.

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "I know little of magic. How can this be solved?"

"Er, well, it's very hard to turn an abomination back into a normal person," Jowan said. "Almost impossible… but not completely impossible!" he added hastily. "You have to send someone, a mage, into the Fade to kill the demon in its home."

"How do you intend to get there?" Morrigan said, eyeing the mage like a cat with a mouse.

"Er, well…"

"Blood magic," muttered Alistair. "Of course."

"Yes," Jowan admitted. "And a lot of it. In fact, a human sacrifice is necessary."

"That's out of the question," Elizabeth said immediately.

"Then your only other option is to kill the boy," Jowan said, sighing.

"Also out of the question," Isolde snapped.

Jowan nodded. "I can't be the sacrifice, because I have to do the ritual. And your friend… er… Morrigan would have to be the one to enter the Fade."

"I will be the sacrifice," Isolde said, her eyes sparking resolutely.

"Isolde!" cried Teagan.

"I know I am conspiring with a maleficar," said the arlessa. "But I will do anything to save my son – even give up my life to a ritual of black magic."

"Is there no other way?" Leliana asked Jowan plaintively.

"There is another way… but it takes resources we don't have," Jowan said.

"Tell us anyway," Elizabeth ordered.

"You need ten mages and about twenty kilos of lyrium," Jowan said. "Then you can send a mage into the Fade without blood. I've heard of elves who can do it with only one or two mages, but I'm not an elf and I don't know their methods…"

"The Circle Tower is not so far away," Teagan said. "A day's travel, more or less."

"If I set out to ask for aid with my companions," Elizabeth said, "will you be able to maintain control here?"

"Yes," Teagan said. "I was taken by surprise when it controlled my body. It will not happen again. As for the skeletons, we can deal with them. Not so well without you, but we shall make do."

"Good," Elizabeth said. "I will make all haste, but the land is in upheaval and I may be delayed. I shall not be longer than three days – or dead."

"I pray for your swift and safe return," Isolde said. "You are the most generous of women, truly. Maker watch over you."

"Do not lock Jowan up straight away," Elizabeth said. "He can be trusted in his wish to help, and now that his secrets are exposed he will not betray you. His knowledge I believe can be of use."

"Thank you," Jowan murmured from where he stood in the corner.

Teagan hesitated. "As you say, then."

"Maker watch over you," Elizabeth said, and strode to the door.


	5. The Circle Tower

Author's note: Apparently I used the Halo 3 Warthog Run Complete Extended Edition music to assist in the writing of this chapter. I don't remember where, though.

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The Circle Tower

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It took them a day and a half of travel to make it to the Circle Tower from Redcliffe. They were slowed by Alistair's leg; less so by Sten's arm, but still Leliana fussed over it – it was a deep wound, and while Bann Teagan gave them good poultices, there was no healing magic to be found and so the giant had to bear with it. He did so in silence.

Elizabeth led them on as fast as she dared, however. She was afraid of what might happen at Redcliffe in their absence and her stomach was constantly nervous about it. It seemed forever before the impossibly tall spire of Kinloch Hold – also known as the Circle Tower – rose over the hills before them, on the morning of the second day.

The Circle Tower was the home of all mages in Ferelden. The ability to use magic was feared, not because of its own destructive potential, but because an unwary mage could be taken over by a demon from the Fade. So they were all imprisoned in the Tower, watched perpetually by Knights Templar who could nullify magic and destroy fallen mages. Yet the king of Ferelden could call on them in times of need, such as the Blight. While Elizabeth's main goal was to heal Connor, she could not deny she had hopes of securing her alliance at the same time.

The Tower was isolated from the shore; at one time the Imperial Highway had leapt across the lake to the Tower in a series of great arches, but the bridge had collapsed in the middle a long time ago. So the only way across was via ferryboat, and it was not a large one. A tiny village huddled on the shore by the docks under the shadow of the highway, with an inn – The Spoiled Princess – and a few other buildings to support travelers.

When they arrived, she turned to her companions. "Sten, I don't expect this will be physically arduous, but I'd like you to remain here and rest. Morrigan, if you would stay with him… I don't think the Templars would approve of you and I want to be as fast as possible."

"That's an understatement," Alistair muttered and Morrigan smirked.

"Have it your way," she only said.

Sten nodded. "I have a task of my own to do in this area."

Elizabeth looked at him curiously but did not press him. The Qunari turned away, Morrigan's diminutive figure trailing him.

The others, Alistair, Leliana, and Huan, followed Elizabeth to the docks.

"Hoi," said the Templar guarding the docks. "No one's allowed across!"

"Why not?" Elizabeth said, taken aback. "I thought the Circle Tower allowed at least visitors and diplomats."

"Not today they don't," said the knight. "No one's allowed in or out of the Tower right now."

"Why?" Alistair demanded, drawing himself up.

"Dunno. But why don't you go take a room at the Spoiled Princess and I'll come get you when they allow people again? If they ever do," he added under his breath.

"Here now, that won't do!" Alistair said furiously – and yet Elizabeth had the feeling that he was playing a part. "Do you know who this lady is? We've come a long way to speak to Knight-Commander Gregoire. He's expecting us."

Elizabeth tried not to let her face show her confusion and apprehension. "Indeed, I have many things to discuss with the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter. They would be angry that you delayed us."

The poor knight looked even more confused and worried than she felt. "Er… well… He didn't say anything, but… I don't want to get in trouble! I'll take you to the Tower. They'll know what to do with you."

In silence they paddled across the lake. The sky was cloudy, and further out into the lake it appeared downright stormy. Elizabeth hoped it wasn't a portent.

"Here you are," said the knight when they reached the far side. "I hope everything goes well!"

"Thank you for your cooperation," Alistair said grandly, and they ascended the winding stair in the cliffside until they reached the front door.

Elizabeth swallowed. "This is madness."

Leliana winked at her. "The worst they can do is throw us out. But I think you can convince them not to."

"She's exactly right," Alistair said. "Be bold!" He pushed open the gate.

All talk ceased in the first chamber of the Tower as they entered; all eyes fixed on them. Not a good start, Elizabeth thought, but followed Alistair's subtle gestures to an older, grizzled warrior. "You are Knight-Commander Gregoire?"

"Who are you?" demanded the warrior without answering her question. "Why are you here? We're dealing with a very delicate situation here. You must leave for your own safety!"

"I am Elizabeth of the Grey Wardens, and these are my companions. I seek for the mages to answer their ancient treaty with the Grey Wardens in order to defeat the Blight," Elizabeth said, as bold as Alistair had encouraged her to be. She could look Gregoire in the eye; she did not have to be too intimidated by him. "Beyond that, I seek their immediate aid to rescue a possessed child."

Gregoire's face drew down into even more of a frown than he had been wearing previously and he sighed impatiently. "I am weary of the Grey Warden's ceaseless need for men to fight the darkspawn… but it is their right. But you came here on a fool's errand. The Templars can spare no men, and Circle of Mages no longer exists."

"Why? What's happened?" Alistair asked.

"We're not entirely sure," Gregoire admitted. "But the upper levels are crawling with abominations and demons. It's doubtful whether any mages are still alive besides the apprentices and a few others we rescued." He gestured to one side of the Tower's antechamber, where several dozen people in robes were huddled; most of them looked like they were in shock. "We're debating whether or not to declare the Circle disbanded and purge the Tower with the Rite of Annulment."

Elizabeth's eyes widened. "Surely there is something less… permanent that can be done to solve it."

"Any mages in there are probably already dead anyway," Alistair said to her.

"And what would you have me do?" the Knight-Commander demanded. "I don't have enough knights here to search for survivors, let alone fight all the demons."

"Surely some mages still live. They must have fought back."

"You are clearly ignorant of those… monstrosities," Gregoire said. "It is too painful to hope for survivors and find… nothing." His voice broke, and for an instant, Elizabeth saw he cared about the Tower and its inhabitants more than he would like to let on.

Elizabeth straightened up. "Perhaps I am ignorant as you say. But we will go into the Tower. I'd like to ascertain the situation for myself."

Gregoire frowned. "Why should I let you?"

"Because we are the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden, and I would risk much to see the Blight ended," Elizabeth answered. "Give us a few hours to see what we can do."

"We may not have a few hours," Gregoire said. "It won't be long before we have demons attacking our last barriers." He hesitated briefly "You can go in, Warden Elizabeth, and I will wait as long as I can before giving final orders."

Elizabeth bowed her head briefly. "Thank you, ser."

Gregoire led them to a great arched gate, closed, locked, and magically sealed. "Let them in."

"Yes, ser."

"You understand of course that I cannot let you out again unless you can prove that the Tower is safe," the Knight-Commander warned them as his subordinates opened the gate for them. "And the only way I will believe you is if First Enchanter Irving himself stands at this gate and says it is so."

"I understand," Elizabeth said and strode through the gate; the others followed her. It shut behind them again with surprisingly little noise.

The light in the hall was dim; the lanterns that lit it appeared to be magical, and some of them were not lit. There seemed to be a lot of blood on the floor, some of it making trails towards the room they had just come from – some of the mages had been wounded before they were rescued, she guessed. The rooms to her right appeared to be dorm rooms, and they looked as if something had overturned them completely. She continued on steadily down the hall, heart pounding, wondering when she would see the first abomination.

Instead, she saw a steady blue glow from a doorway. She approached it and found that it was another barrier. She wondered if she could touch it. Beyond the barrier, she saw a few more mages, some of them very young and huddled together with frightened faces. They weren't more than Connor's age, and she grimaced in sympathy. There were a few older mages as well, including…

"Wynne?" she said.

The silver-haired mage from Ostagar looked up from comforting a young apprentice and smiled at her. "Elizabeth Cousland! What brings you to this awful place?"

"I need your help," Elizabeth said. "Can you let us in?"

For a moment Wynne looked guarded, and Elizabeth wondered if she suspected them of being demons – or Templars trying to trap them. But she nodded and came to unseal the door and let them in. "If Gregoire let you in, then I suppose I can trust you. Ah, Alistair, you survived as well. And who is this young lady?"

"I am Leliana, ma'am," Leliana said politely.

"She joined us in Lothering," Elizabeth said. "I am glad to see you survived as well, Wynne."

"Yes, yes, some of us got away. Poor King Cailan. If only that wretched Loghain had held his word. But what do you need my help with, dear? It seems rather that I might need your help, getting these young ones to the rendevous."

"Knight-Commander Gregoire said he won't let us out until we find First Enchanter Irving," Alistair said. "Wynne, have you seen him?"

Wynne looked troubled. "Not since the meeting we had with all the senior mages that ended in such disaster. Uldred – you may remember him, he was also at Ostagar – wanted us to join with Loghain; apparently Loghain promised mages more freedom from the Chantry. When his suggestion was rejected, he attacked us all! He had some followers – blood mages! I fear he has become an abomination, and I haven't the least idea what became of Irving."

"So that was the start of all this," Alistair said grimly.

"We must fix it," Leliana said. "Please, Lady Wynne, how do we do so?"

"I don't know," Wynne said. "It was all I could do to get down to the first floor and protect these little ones. But if you are determined to go upstairs and see what can be done, then I will come with you. I am sure Gregoire is trying to decide whether or not to use the Rite of Annulment. You may have bought us a little time with your arrival, at least. Let us put it to good use! I will not lose the Circle to one man's pride and stupidity!" She turned to the two other adult mages. "Petra, Kinnon, watch the children and don't let anything get through the barrier. We shall be as quick as we can."

"Wynne…" said the one named Petra. "You were so badly hurt earlier. Shouldn't I come with you?"

"I'll be fine," Wynne said. "These others need your protection more. These are good people, Petra. Just keep the children safe."

"You were hurt?" Elizabeth asked anxiously.

"I said I'm fine," Wynne said gently. "Let us go."

Wynne led the way to the second barrier, letting it down for the group, and putting it up again. "If we kill all the demons on our way, none will get past to threaten the children in the first place… Alistair! You have a limp. What happened?"

"Er… We had a fight with some undead at Redcliffe," Alistair said. "Elizabeth got nicked as well, and Sten, who we left outside."

Wynne clicked her tongue and tapped Alistair's leg with her staff. "Let me see to that. How did you come to be fighting undead?"

Elizabeth watched her heal Alistair's injured leg with amazement. Morrigan had never used healing magic, and to Elizabeth it appeared quite miraculous. It felt miraculous too, when Wynne came to her and healed her hand and her cheek. She had been wondering somewhat vainly if she would have an ugly scar, but when she passed her hand over it, she felt nothing.

Together, she and Alistair told their tale, with Leliana putting in helpful words here and there. Huan trotted beside them and grinned.

"So you need aid for this boy as soon as possible," Wynne summarized when they were done, "and then you need the Tower's help in fighting the Blight. Of course we will help you – if we still live. We would owe you a great debt!"

"Thank you, Wynne," Elizabeth said. "That takes a weight from my mind."

"Of course, I am not Irving," Wynne said. "He would make the final decision. But we've been friends for many years, and I think he would agree with me. But you travel with an apostate… Is she quite… sane?"

"She hasn't turned into an abomination yet," Alistair said dubiously.

"She's got quite a fashion sense," Leliana said brightly.

"I think I like her," Elizabeth said. "She's strong-minded, but most of her abrasiveness comes from never having lived with anyone but her mother. I believe she is actually good. Just… oh, she would not like me to call her uncivilized."

"At least in the Tower we learn manners," Wynne agreed, smiling. "We might not all like each other, but it's more than only one person for company. Well, well, we'll just have to get along, won't we?"

They had come to the stairs to the second level, and Wynne gestured for quiet. "We should not be taken by surprise here."

"I'll go first," Leliana said. "They'll have a job to catch me even if they spot me."

Wynne was right, and they had their first battle. The abominations were as monstrous as Gregoire had implied – they wore the clothes of mages, but their flesh had… melted, and bubbled, and stretched into bizarre, hulking shapes. They fought as fiercely as the undead, with magic and with long, rending claws. Elizabeth was so unsettled she felt herself hard-pressed and if she had been alone she soon would have been overwhelmed, even without factoring in her inexperience and shaking nerves. But the others were with her, although the other two young people seemed equally disturbed at the sight.

They found a few other survivors, some Tranquil, and some of Uldred's blood mages – who surrendered after a thorough beating. Elizabeth spared them on the condition that they join in fighting the Blight.

In one room she saw a large black book titled "Flemeth" and while the others pressed on, slid it into her pack. It looked to be full of spells from her quick glance; perhaps Morrigan would like it.

As they climbed the tower, the very walls became increasingly covered in bloated, pulsating flesh. "The Veil has been torn," Wynne said. "If we can defeat Uldred, then that, at least, will vanish." Elizabeth hoped so; it squished horribly under her boots and the pools of blood everywhere were nauseating.

When they were near the top, they began to meet not only abominations, but demons and possessed Templars as well. Some of the demons took the forms of incredibly beautiful naked women with lavender skin and graceful horns, and some of them took the forms of great plumes of molten stone. Elizabeth hadn't even known that stone could melt.

They were on the second-highest floor, with no sign of Irving, when they heard voices and came upon a strange tableau in one of the side rooms.

"What are we having for dinner tonight, my love?" said the voice of a man. He sounded hoarse, but otherwise completely at home, unconcerned, apparently not aware of the state of the Tower around him.

"Roast boar," said a woman's voice, a beautiful smooth voice with a dark echo so like to Connor's. "And candied yams. Your favourite, isn't it?" Leliana crept to the door to spy in, and her eyes widened. She beckoned to them, and they joined her as quietly as they could.

"It looks delicious. I am so spoiled! Ah, here are the children! How were your lessons today, pets? What did you learn, my son?"

A Templar was standing in the middle of a large, tattered bedroom, staring into the eyes of one of the beautiful female demons. Neither he nor the demon noticed the five of them peering around the edge of the doorway. Elizabeth's hands flew to her mouth as the corpse of another Templar sat up and turned his sightless gaze in the direction of the living Templar.

"Mother praised my penmanship, but she raps my knuckles if the letters aren't formed correctly," said the dead Templar with the voice of a rather whiny-sounding child. But this voice, too, had an echo.

"Oh, Edgar," Wynne murmured. "How dare they do this to you?"

"It's very important to be able to write well," said the Templar. "And you, my dearest daughter?"

"I practiced the harp!" squeaked a sweet-sounding girl's voice from another animated corpse. "And I helped with supper!"

"Thank you very much," said the Templar. "It is delicious. Every day I spend with you, my beloved family, is better than the last!"

"Isn't our life perfect, my love?"

"It is all perfect," said the knight, sounding a little dazed.

Wynne pushed past them, storming into the room with her fists clenched around her staff. "How dare you!? In Andraste's name, let him go this instant!"

"What is that sound?" asked the Templar, his eyes searching the room as if he didn't see them.

"It is only someone at the door," the desire demon answered him, stroking his armoured chest. "Why don't you tuck the children into bed while I see who it is?"

"All right. Don't be long, my love, the children will want to kiss you goodnight."

"I will be but a moment," said she, and turned to Wynne and the others who had joined her, clutching their weapons nervously. "You are intruding upon a loving, intimate moment, and I detest interruptions. Why do you disturb our happy life?"

"There's nothing loving or intimate going on here," Wynne sputtered. "Release him from your spells!"

"Happiness is bewitching," the demon purred, drawing a hand sensuously over her flawless lavender skin from her belly to her breast. "There is a certain power in all things that mortals crave. I have only given him what he has always wanted: a wife, a home, a loving family to tend to, rather than be stuck in this dreary tower for the rest of his life. What is the harm in that?"

"I… suppose she has a point…" Leliana said slowly.

"Absolutely not!" Wynne said. "His happiness is an illusion, a cruel lie!"

"All emotion is intangible. His happiness is as real as anything else."

"But normally it is caused by real things," Elizabeth said. "Real people and events. He has no say in this fabrication."

"Exactly," Wynne and Alistair agreed.

The demon circled to a spot behind the Templar, resting her hands affectionately and possessively on his shoulders. "So is it better to live a sweet lie, or a long, lonely, miserable truth? You would seem to chose unreasonably. It is not only to please him that I give him this life. We are equal partners. I make him happy, and through him, experience what it is to be mortal."

"She's only feeding off his emotions and taking away his will," Wynne said. "It's better to end this."

"An unholy parasite," Leliana cried, setting an arrow to her string.

"Our spirits are joined," cried the demon in her turn, tightening her grip on the knight. "If you kill one of us, you must kill the other. I am his wife and his children, and he will defend me to the death if need be." Her voice softened. "I want nothing from you, and you could not want anything from me. Why not leave us in peace to be happy together?"

"We can do nothing for him," Wynne said, "but once she has drained him and cast his corpse aside, she will come for others. I am sorry it must come to this, but we must destroy them."

"I understand," Elizabeth said, and charged.

"Help! Help!" wailed the demon to the Templar in her 'wife' voice. "Bandits!"

Elizabeth was almost on them, Huan at her heels, but the Templar was well-trained and his sword was already in his hand. Elizabeth wondered what he saw in his trance, as she attacked and was blocked. "Leliana! Wynne! Keep the demon occupied!" To her horror, the two Templar corpses were also rising and drawing weapons, and a glance around showed more bodies were beginning to move; they were badly outnumbered. The best thing to do would be to kill the demon first, but with this many meat shields, that was going to be difficult.

Especially when the demon snatched Leliana's arrows out of the air and dodged Wynne's flying hefty chunk of stone like smoke in the wind. But while it was watching them, it couldn't cast spells so easily. She hoped.

She dodged a pommel strike from the knight's sword, bashed a zombie away with her shield, and feinted low. The knight followed her and she flipped the sword up to bash his nose with the pommel as he had tried to do for her. His head went back, momentarily stunned, and she kicked him backwards. But a zombie came in from her right side and slashed her down the side; she cried out in surprise and anticipated pain, but magic flashed and the blow was cushioned before it ever struck her. She felt a sting along her arm, but nothing was bleeding.

She tried to counterattack, but the knight had recovered, blood streaming from his nose, and swiped at her head. She ducked and felt blows on her shield from the other side. Then suddenly they stopped as Alistair destroyed the corpse attacking her left. "Here!" he cried. "Trade you!" He took on the knight as she went to attack the zombie on her right.

Huan had taken out at least two of the other corpses, and now he was attacking the demon itself. Leliana, not wanting to shoot him by accident, had switched to shooting zombies, and with her help Elizabeth did not find it difficult to defeat the one she was fighting. Alistair was still sparring with the knight; they were pretty much evenly matched.

Huan howled, and Elizabeth whirled to see he had been flung across the room, his fur dark and shiny with blood. "Don't you hurt my dog!" she shouted and charged the demon. It dodged her and she staggered a little too far, feeling claws rake her armour over her back left shoulder. Her armour held, though the sound sent a shudder down her spine, and she spun around, seeking to hit the demon with either sword or shield, anything to injure it or slow it down even.

To her surprise, her desperate flailing connected, and the demon made a noise of surprise, pain, and frustration. Elizabeth didn't stop to think about it but flung herself again at her opponent, attacking again and again. The demon was slower now, for whatever reason, and her skin looked oddly textured. She blocked Elizabeth's strikes with her claws, but she was wearing down quickly. Elizabeth took a chance and stabbed her through the chest. The demon gave a wailing gurgle and slid to the floor.

The Templar was still fighting, but Alistair was beginning to have the upper hand. "What do we do with this one?" he shouted back to Wynne.

"I do not think he can be saved," she answered. "Even if you were to take him prisoner…"

"Saved!? Saved!? You murder my wife and children and tell me you want to save me?!"

"My apologies," Alistair grunted, and killed him before Elizabeth could object.

What was done was done. She did not doubt Wynne, she only wondered what _would_ have happened if they did take him prisoner…

Wynne tended their injuries again, beginning with Huan, and Elizabeth looked around the room. There was nothing they needed there. "Wynne, where do we go next?"

"The central room of this floor will have the stairs to the top floor and the Harrowing Chamber," Wynne said.

"Harrowing Chamber?" Leliana asked,

"I heard something about that," Alistair said. "It's some kind of test for new mages, isn't it?"

"Yes," Wynne said. "An apprentice mage is sent into the Fade, to see if they can resist temptation from the demons. They are never younger than 16, but they are told nothing of it beforehand – they must rely on their training to complete their trial, not hints, since no two demons will offer the same temptation."

"If they pass, they become mages," Elizabeth guessed, and Wynne nodded. "If they fail?"

"If they succumb to the demon, the Templars standing by will know. Unfortunately, there is no mercy for a mage who fails their Harrowing. They would be permanently scarred, and easy prey for a second possession. The only hope for your possessed boy is that it does not have full hold over his mind, and that is not because he is not fully-trained or too young… Only that his spirit has not fully left his body to make room for the demon. It is pure luck. Or the Maker's grace."

"I am grateful to both, then," Elizabeth said. "I suppose Mage Uldred must be using that chamber for his own nefarious purpose."

"It's the last place both Irving and Uldred could be," Wynne agreed. "I am finished here. Let us continue."

Elizabeth nodded and led the way to the door of the central chamber, pushing it open.

A tall figure turned at their approach – an abomination with sad eyes peering out of a melted, swollen, twisted face. But before she could charge into battle, it held up a hand, and she felt suddenly sluggish, as if it were not worth it to drag herself over there to fight. She was too tired even to snarl.

"Oh look," said the abomination dully. "Visitors. I'd entertain you, but… so much effort involved."

"A demon of Sloth," Wynne gasped, clutching her staff to stay upright.

"I don't need entertainment," Elizabeth managed to say. "I need to get past you."

"And you're going to cause more violence, aren't you? I hate a ruckus. Isn't there enough violence in the world? Wouldn't you like… a break from it all? It's only what you deserve… Just for a couple of hours, perhaps…? The world will go on without you…"

"I don't have a couple of hours!" Elizabeth would have liked to shout. But her whole body was so heavy, collapsing to the floor in the weight of her armour. She could hear Alistair go over with a sleepy "Whoa…"

"Resist!" Wynne tried to exhort them, but Elizabeth's eyelids were burning lead weights and she could not hear if Wynne said anything else…

.

.

Elizabeth woke from her nap on the highest tower of Castle Highever. Or had she really been sleeping? Perhaps she had only been daydreaming. Perhaps she was still daydreaming – everything felt misty, somehow.

"Wakey wakey, my lady," came a cheerful man's voice from beside her, and she turned her head to see Ser Gilmore, waving for her attention. She smiled faintly at him. They were sitting together on the parapet, apple cores in their hands, just as they were… at… a time ago. She couldn't remember why their situation struck a chord with her. It must not be that important.

"How goes it?" she asked.

"All the better for your asking," he said, and winked. She chuckled.

But something bothered her. "Wasn't… I was… fighting… I am supposed to be fighting. Aren't I?"

"Who are you supposed to be fighting, my lady?" Gilmore asked, a crease of concern appearing between his eyebrows. "There isn't a tournament scheduled until after the harvest."

"Harvest…?" It did appear to be high summer, with all the fields stretching out golden around Highever Castle Town, a few miles away and hazy with distance. "No… I was fighting… monsters…"

"Oh, the Blight! Of course!" Gilmore said easily. "I'm so disappointed I didn't get picked to be a Grey Warden, but it's been fun taking care of the castle with you. But it wasn't actually even a Blight, remember? Your father and brother are due to arrive any day now."

"Oh good," she said. "I must pester them for tales of all the glorious deeds I missed out on."

"You didn't miss out on all of them, remember?"

She frowned, concentrating. Yes, that was right, she… "We defeated Arl Howe's treacherous attack together, that's right. Father had to rest up from his injuries, and I thought he might let me go in his stead after all, but…" It was all how she remembered it, but there was something not quite right about it. If she and Gilmore had defeated Arl Howe's attack, why did it inspire such a feeling of grief and horror in her?

"My lady?" Gilmore said, drawing her attention again. "I was fancying a walk down to the stream to the southwest. Would you like to have a picnic there?"

"Why not?" she agreed, and swung around to the floor of the tower.

She wasn't sure exactly how she got down the tower and out to the stream, but what was important was that she arrived there, and Gilmore was setting out a clean cloth and she had a basket of food – presumably begged from Nan, or commanded, jestingly, since she was playing at being Teyrna.

She set the things down and sat, feeling a little disoriented, though she couldn't say why. "Are you sure the Blight's over?"

"Quite sure, my lady," Gilmore said, glancing up at her and smiling.

She frowned at the back of her right hand. It looked normal, being smooth and white on the back, calloused from sword-play on the palm. But there was something… a line of fire in her memories… "I remember being in armour… fighting monsters… I'm sure of it!"

Gilmore frowned, perplexed. "Perhaps you mean the bandits we drove back last month?" She considered this, but before she could agree or disagree, Gilmore slid behind her. "It's stress, perhaps. Have you been sleeping well? Would you like a shoulder massage?" His long fingers were already on her shoulders, and her head slumped forward; it felt very nice. Tension she hadn't known was there began to drain from her upper back.

"I don't think I have been sleeping well," she said, although she couldn't actually remember. But she was sure of it somehow.

"That must be the cause of it," said Gilmore's voice, low and close to her right ear. She shivered. Now his arms were wrapping around her. "You're going to stay here with me, right?" His words were both plea and statement of fact. Her mind was too foggy to answer and her arms hung limp at her sides. His right hand moved up to hold her breasts, and her head sagged back against his broad shoulder. She felt his lips on her neck and couldn't hold back a moan. "Stay with me," he said in between kisses, his voice grower more deep and husky. "I will take care of you. You will be happy with me." His right hand – he had such large hands – was pressing more firmly against her breasts, squeezing them, massaging them; his left hand slid lower and lower, and her breath came shorter as he did, until his fingers slipped between her legs and brushed against a place she had never been touched by another. Even through her dress it sent a jolt through her. She had not really explored that place herself, either – fear of discovery, even by Huan, had stopped her every time. And now Gilmore was-

She stiffened, even though her whole body was throbbing at his touch, especially between her legs. He paused in his assault on her neck. "What's wrong, Elizabeth?"

That confirmed it for her. She struggled against him, and taking him by surprise, she tore away from his sensuous embrace and staggered to her feet. "How dare you!"

"I don't understand," he protested, but the look in his eyes did not ring true.

"How dare you! How dare you touch him! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" she screamed, almost tearing at her hair in anger and frustration. "Don't you dare despoil the memories of my closest friend!" He had called her by her name alone once in his whole life – when he said goodbye to her for the last time. And he would never have touched her like that, not without asking her first.

The demon with Gilmore's face sat back. "Isn't this what you want? Your family alive and well, the world at peace, and an adoring lover to bring you pleasures you've never known? I only want to make you happy, in exchange for such a little thing…"

"Oh, shove it!" Elizabeth shrieked, past caring about ladylike bearing. She seized the sword that lay on the grass beside them and yanked it from the sheath, charging at the horrible creature that mocked her with her dead friend.

Still his form did not change, but with a terrible snarl that she had never seen on the true Gilmore's face, he charged her back, appearing to summon a sword and shield out of thin air for his own use.

She should have been frightened; it was a demon, with a face that should have unsettled her, with powers she couldn't understand. But she was furious, and her mind was finally alert, and her blood pounded through her veins and told her to fight until this obscenity was destroyed or she breathed her last.

"You can't deny you want to be touched," the demon said, even as they fought. "You enjoyed it. You've always had a dark curiosity about such things. Your innocence is only an illusion to your companions."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up! It's not relevant!" She blocked his sword and sidestepped his shield; this creature was even stronger than the true Gilmore, and underneath her anger she was beginning to be afraid. He pressed his advantage, and she backed away, angling so she would not become trapped by the stream. She was definitely on the defensive now, and he seemed to effortlessly block all her counterattacks.

And he still had the leisure to talk. "And your family? Don't you miss them? Don't you wish the world was at peace?"

" _I will not live a lie! Get away from me!_ " She knocked his sword away with all her strength and control and swung, and his head rolled to the ground.

The body began to disappear immediately, for which she was thankful – already the sight of Gilmore's red-haired severed head was etched into her memory, even though it wasn't truly him. When it had gone, when she believed she was alone, she fell to her knees wearily and cried.

She cried for quite a while, shaken and grieving. When she finally recovered herself, she remembered her mission. She had to find a way out of this illusion and get back to the Circle Tower. She dried her face and looked around

An odd pedestal, made of gleaming, twisted black metal, stood nearby. It glowed with a strange light. She stood and peered down at it, utterly confused. A blue-purple-white glow illuminated one of many small circles joined with lines, and one of the lines also glowed, joining the circle to another circle.

Should she poke the glowing circle? Should she poke one of the dark circles? Or should she avoid it entirely?

If this place was an illusion, trying to walk out of it would be fruitless. She had to try something.

She touched a random dark circle, bracing herself, and nothing happened. She tried the glowing circle, bracing even more, and nothing happened. She touched the dark circle next to the glowing line, and had barely time to gasp as she felt a strange yank that seemed to be from inside her.

She shook her head, disoriented, and found she was in a completely different landscape – indistinct, sepia-toned, and filled with brambles. The sky was black but the horizon glowed. Small glowing objects floated through the air and she could see stone ruins in the distance. She also noticed she was again in her armour, with her father's sword at her side and her shield at her back. It comforted her.

She struggled through the thicket to a more open place and found another human. He was dressed like a mage, a rather straggly mop of dark hair on his head, his eyes dull and unfocused, but he appeared alive. "Hello?" she managed.

"Hello," he said, without interest. "It's been a while since I've had any visitors."

"How long, exactly?"

"I'm not sure… I don't know how long I've been here."

"What's your name?"

The man frowned vaguely. "…I'm not sure. Nathan? Nylon?"

"My name is Elizabeth," said she. "Where are we? What is this place?"

His gaze focused slightly. "This is the Fade, where everyone comes to dream. Mages can come here with their minds awake, but I'm not sure how we got here. You're not even a mage. I am, but I don't remember."

"I have no idea how I got here," Elizabeth said. "But I have to get out. I have to stop Uldred, and save the Circle Tower, and save Connor Guerrin, and Ferelden… I have a lot to do. I can't stay here."

"You do have a lot to do," said the man. "Uldred… that sounds familiar. I had… there was something I had to do… for him? No, to stop him. He's bad, right?"

"I think so," Elizabeth said.

"It'll come to me," said the man placidly. "You have so much energy. It's kind of nice, and it's nice to have someone to talk to."

"You should come with me," Elizabeth said.

"No," said the man. "I'm too tired. I was told there was a way off this island, but the only way to get to it is to turn into a mouse."

"You're a mage," Elizabeth said. "Why can't you just turn into a mouse?"

He gestured helplessly. "It doesn't work that way. You should sit with me. It's nice here."

"You sound like the Sloth demon," Elizabeth said warily. "I'll look for this way out. Why did you call it an island?"

The mage gestured to a cliff a little ways away. "See for yourself."

Elizabeth went and looked and gasped. The rock she was standing on was floating in a great void. Below her was an abyss as black as the sky above.

But if they were in the Fade, what would happen if she jumped off? She had no idea how the Fade worked, but surely she wouldn't die.

It was a bad idea while she still had other options, she decided. She waved to the mage and set off along a trail through a narrow canyon.

She wasn't sure how far she wandered, but it was definitely out of sight or sound of the apathetic mage when she came across some sort of gate. She stepped through and nothing happened, so she continued up the hill that appeared before her.

She heard a squeak and paused. "Is something there?"

"Yes…" said a little voice. "Me."

She looked around until she saw movement near her feet.

It was well that Elizabeth wasn't the sort to startle at mice, or she might have jumped and accidentally crushed it. "What are you? Are you a demon?"

"No," said the mouse. "I'm a mouse."

"I can see that," Elizabeth said. "But I never met a talking mouse before."

"That's true," said the mouse. "But this is the Fade, where mortals go to dream… oh, forget it, I can't do that sort of mystery crap, not as a mouse, anyway."

Elizabeth blinked. "So what are you?"

"I'm a mage," sighed the mouse. "I found the mouse form, but I can't change back, and I can't find the mousehole to leave this island, and I'm so tired…"

"So there really is a mousehole to live this place," Elizabeth said.

"Only this island," said the mouse-mage. "To leave the Fade entirely, you have to defeat the Sloth demon that holds us all prisoner. And he's really well guarded. I'll show you… have you seen any Fade pedestals around?"

Elizabeth thought back to the one in the Highever illusion. "I think so. Glowing spots and lines?"

"Yes. He's in the one in the centre. Around him are five lesser demons to guard him, and to break down his barrier, you have to defeat all five of them. I know there are other islands in his domain, but those five are the important ones."

"Huh," Elizabeth said, and thought about it. "So I can defeat them with my sword?"

"I think so," said the mouse. "But you won't get anywhere without the power to change into a mouse."

"Why not?" Elizabeth complained. "I have nothing against magic, but I don't want to use it myself…"

"It's only while you're here," the mouse said apologetically. "I'll give you the power. You still have strength, you'll be able to change back. I… I don't think I'm getting out, anyway."

"Don't be silly," Elizabeth said. "I'm getting everyone out."

"It's too late for me," said the mouse. "I've been here a very long time. Even longer than Niall, and he's been here… a long time. I can't tell time in here. But… even if I got out, the Templars would kill me… if my body was even still alive."

Elizabeth swallowed. "You mean our bodies can die if…"

"There's no soul in them for long enough," the mouse said, and nodded. "I wish you luck, and… I wish I could remember my name so I could tell you to say goodbye for me. But with Uldred's violence… I'm not the only one…"

"Goodbye?" Elizabeth said. "I don't understand-"

"Thanks for your help," the mouse said, a bit desperately. "Please succeed." A flash of light shot from the small fuzzy body and hit Elizabeth square in the chest, and the mouse fell over, dead.

"…I'll try," Elizabeth said quietly. "I will do my best." The mouse vanished.

How would she use this power? She reached to where the light had hit her and thought of small furry creatures, and to her surprise, it worked.

She was a three-inch long mouse with a tail that quivered nervously behind her. Her whiskers quivered nervously, and when she tried to walk forward, it turned into a nervous scamper.

Could she change back? She remembered herself as a human, herself, woman, Cousland, Elizabeth, and she resumed her own form with a blink. It was a little tiring, and she resolved not to do that unless she really had to.

She went back to the other mage. He was waiting for her with a placid smile.

"I remembered my name," he said as she approached. "It's Niall."

"The mouse said something about you," she said.

"You met him?"

"He… he died. He gave me his power and died."

"That's great! That you can turn into a mouse. Not that he died."

"Do you know his name?"

"No… But I remembered something else, too."

"What is it?"

"Irving sent me on a special mission to get him something."

She waited expectantly.

"Um… I don't remember what it was yet. But it was the thing to help stop Uldred."

"I see," she said. "I'm going to keep exploring. You keep thinking, and if you remember anything else, tell it to me the next time I come back. I promise I will come back."

"Okay," he said, and went back to staring at the sky. She wondered if it would really do any good.

.

It seemed to take forever, but after much tedious searching she did find a crack in a stone wall that led to a new area, and she crept through in mouse-form. On the other side was another pedestal, but a new circle-line combination was lit up.

She explored as she could, helping a couple spirits of living people and gaining new forms that would let her pass different obstacles – she could transform into a flaming skeletal corpse to pass barriers of flame, and into a withered spirit that could pass through ghostly doors, and into a stone giant that could smash through medium-sized obstacles in her path. She had defeated a couple demons, but not all five yet. Now she understood how the map worked and it was much easier for her to get around the little corner of the Fade that this particular Sloth demon ruled.

It was nice that things seemed to stay in roughly the same place and orientation, unlike the the landscapes in the dreams she had in the waking world. She often encountered demons, whom she engaged cautiously – she was very conscious that she did not have a team at her back as she normally did, and this was their home ground. They were stronger here than in the waking world.

She was on one of the outermost islands when she thought she heard a familiar voice.

"Wynne?"

"I failed them," Wynne sighed, a sigh with a sob in it. "I failed them. Maker forgive me."

"You haven't failed yet," Elizabeth called, trying to find her way to Wynne. "We're still fighting."

"They're all dead," Wynne sighed, and Elizabeth finally found her in a little hollow of the island, surrounded by the bodies of mages. Wynne cradled the body of a young elf apprentice, slowly weeping. "They died and I did nothing."

Elizabeth came to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "Wynne, we're in the Fade. How do we get out?"

"The Fade? No, this is real. I can feel it, see it, smell it. Death surrounds us. Can you not see it?"

"I cannot see what you see," Elizabeth said.

"Why was I spared, if not to help them? What use is my life now that I have failed in this task that was given to me? No. Leave me to my grief. I must bury these poor little ones, scatter their ashes to the four winds, and mourn them until I too am dead."

"Wynne, it's a trick. They tried to keep me here with illusions. I don't know what you're seeing, but it's just a trick of the Fade. And demons, I suppose."

Wynne recoiled from her. "Your blatent disregard for the souls of the dead strikes me as being utterly inappropriate."

Elizabeth drew back, hurt. "It's… I need your help, Wynne, and I need you to… to try to remember how you got here."

"I don't see how this will accomplish anything," Wynne snapped. "Why must you make things more painful? Where were you when this happened, anyway? I trusted you and you weren't there!"

Elizabeth inhaled her pain. Wynne was not herself in this situation. "Please, just… one more time."

"All right," Wynne said impatiently, and looked away, thinking. Then she closed her eyes. "Strange, it is… difficult to focus. It's almost as if something is preventing me from concentrating. I have never had such trouble…" She looked around at the dead bodies. "Perhaps if I walk around a bit, I will find it easier. I will come back and honour them later."

"I will walk with you," Elizabeth said. "If that's all right."

But the corpse nearest to her sat up. "Don't leave us alone, Wynne!"

And another one. "Please, Wynne, we don't want to be alone!"

Wynne dropped the corpse on her lap, apparently aware enough to break the rest of the illusion. "Holy Maker! Stay away, foul creature!"

"Wyyyynne," they chanted, reaching out their arms to her. "Come sleep in the comforting embrace of the earth. Don't fight so. You belong here with us."

Still disoriented, Wynne took shelter beside Elizabeth. "They are… demons!"

"I had to defeat one to escape my prison," Elizabeth said. "Let us defeat these together!"

These demons used the skills of the forms they had taken, and Elizabeth was wary of their magic, not knowing what power it might have in the Fade. There were five of them, but Wynne's magic was stronger than theirs, and Elizabeth, dodging and weaving, closed with one and slashed it across the chest. It collapsed and disappeared. She whirled and slammed another one with her shield, cutting short some kind of icy spell, and followed it up with a decapitation.

Wynne had blasted one with a rock projectile, and was defending herself against another with a magical shield. Sickly green light played harmlessly over the surface of it, and then Wynne thrust her staff in its direction with a forceful grunt, and it turned to stone.

But the last one was creeping up behind her. "Look out!" Elizabeth shouted, and Wynne spun around and knocked it in the head with her staff and it staggered long enough for her to cast a bolt of light into its chest.

"Is it over? Thank the Maker you found me," Wynne said, and gave Elizabeth a hug.

"Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked. "They did not harm you before I got here?"

"I'm fine," Wynne said. "Wait, what is happening?" She had begun to fade away.

"Wynne!" Elizabeth cried, but in another moment, the elderly woman had vanished completely.

Elizabeth blinked, anxious, but hoping that meant she had freed the soul of her friend. If it was only a trick of the dream-logic of this place… well, she would be punching some demons quite hard in the face with her sword soon.

.

Elizabeth found Leliana next, almost completely by accident – the red-haired archer appeared in her Chantry robes, kneeling in the corner of a small open space on an island, and an altar and a old-looking woman dressed as a Chantry Mother beside her. The whole scene was eerily silent.

"Leliana," Elizabeth called in a low voice, but Leliana gave no sign that she heard her. Elizabeth drew closer and discovered that Leliana was not completely silent but was in fact praying under her breath.

The woman on Leliana's other side motioned her away with a sharp gesture. "I beg you, do not disturb the girl's meditations."

Elizabeth ignored her, for she assumed the woman was a demon in disguise again. "Leliana!"

Leliana's muttered mantras stuttered to a halt. "Blessed are… I… what… who are you?"

"It's only an impudent girl, dear Leliana. Continue and I shall send her away."

"Leliana, listen to me," Elizabeth began.

Leliana frowned at her and turned to the woman. "Revered Mother, I do not know this person. How does she know my name?"

"That is why I will send her away," the woman said soothingly.

"Leliana!" Elizabeth said, more strongly. "We are friends in waking life. My name is Elizabeth. Things are not what they seem here."

Leliana shook her head. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

The woman stood and came to block Elizabeth. "Please, do not vex her. She needs quiet and solitude, to calm her mind and heal her heart. We gave her aid when she was lost. We have showed her the way and now she is one of us."

Elizabeth's face darkened, not liking the tone of those words. But instead of challenging the demon, she asked her friend: "Is this what your life was like before you joined me?"

"I am happy here," Leliana said simply. "This is all I ever wanted."

"But…" Elizabeth cast around. "Don't you remember why you left?"

Leliana put her head on one side and slowly stood to join them. "There is… something familiar about you, and… I… find myself trusting you, strange as that may seem."

Elizabeth nodded. "I have not led you wrong yet. Will you not come with me again?"

"Do not," said the demon. "This is your home, your refuge! Would you leave the comfort of this place behind, to go with this death-dealing warrior woman? She will lead you to your doom. Stay, and know peace."

Leliana hesitated, looking from one to the other. Then she smiled – but at Elizabeth. "There is no need. I carry the peace of the Chantry in my heart always."

"Then…" Elizabeth said in disappointment.

"You have chosen wisely," said the demon, smiling kindly at Leliana.

"No," Leliana said. "I meant there is no need for me to stay. I am going with you, Elizabeth. I do indeed now remember you."

"You are going nowhere, girl!" snapped the demon, lunging at Leliana, who neatly sidestepped.

"You have no power over her!" Elizabeth cried. "She is free!"

"No! She is ours, now, and forever!" The demon's form metamorphosed, growing claws and distending its jaw to reveal needle-sharp teeth. Only showing the slightest sign of surprise and alarm with the tilt of her elegant eyebrows, Leliana drew her bow from nowhere and shot it in the head.

"Leliana! Are you all right?" Elizabeth said, hurrying to her side. She checked her over but there was no sign of harm.

"I am perfectly fine," Leliana said calmly. "She was a demon, wasn't she? When I realized who you were, I thought she might be, considering our recent history. I had hoped to leave amicably, even though she was a demon. Where are we?"

"We are in the Fade," Elizabeth said. "I found Wynne, but she vanished again. I hope she's all right."

"So do I," Leliana said, putting a hand to her head. "My head feels so heavy… as if I've just woken up from a troubled sleep. Wait… What!?" She, too, was beginning to vanish.

"If you see Wynne, tell her I'm all right!" Elizabeth had time to call before her friend disappeared entirely.

.

Alistair she heard before she saw him, laughing freely. Clearly his illusion was something quite pleasant. She came across him in another little hollow, with a small fire with a pot beside it, several wooden stools, a woman cooking and several children playing, and Huan. Alistair was sitting on one of the stools with Huan's head on his knee, patting his head, but her dog was snoozing.

"Oh, hey!" Alistair cried, looking up and seeing her. "It's great to see you again! I was just thinking about you, isn't that a marvellous coincidence?" He had the widest of goofy grins on his face, and at his enthusiasm, Huan stirred. But when the dog saw Elizabeth, he got up and immediately bounded to her, almost knocking her down and slobbering all over her face like he was a puppy again.

"Easy there," Elizabeth said. "Down, boy. I'm happy to see you too."

"Yeah, he just showed up, and that's why I was thinking about you. Did you send him on ahead?" Alistair asked, standing and coming to greet her, folding her in a familiar hug that left her quite confused about how long they had known each other. "There's someone really important that I want to introduce you to, so don't freak out, okay?"

Elizabeth blinked. "Your wife? And children? Is this the future?"

The woman smirked and shook a spoon at her chidingly, and Alistair giggled and blushed. "No, no, no. This is my sister! Goldanna! I've told you about her, right?"

"Er, no, but I'm glad to hear it…"

"These are her children. There are more about somewhere. We're a big happy family, united at long last! Aren't you excited?"

"You seem very happy here," Elizabeth said diplomatically, feeling bad that she had to crush this dream. Huan wagged his tail, slapping it against a nearby pillar of rock. Elizabeth wondered if he thought it was the wall of the house in the illusion or something of the sort.

"I am," Alistair said, nodding enthusiastically. "I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life! I thought being a Grey Warden would make me happy, but it didn't. This does."

"I for one am overjoyed to have my little brother back," called 'Goldanna' from where she was stirring the pot – a pot that gave no scent of food from what Elizabeth could tell. "Not letting him out of my sight again!"

"Well," Elizabeth said, thinking fast, "I was wondering if you'd like to come with me on a quick adventure, for old times' sake."

"Well, I shouldn't," Alistair said. "But would you stay for supper? It's all right if she stays for supper, right, Goldanna?"

"Of course it is," the woman said. "I was about to suggest it myself."

"Oh, do stay," Alistair said, clasping his hands and putting on his puppy-dog eyes. "She's a wonderful cook. Maybe she'll make mince pie! You can, can't you?" Huan seconded that with a bark.

"Of course I can," the woman said. "Eat your vegetables first, though."

Elizabeth hesitated, then shook her head. The sooner she could get Alistair free of his dream, the better for his mind. "I can't. And neither can you. I need you to come with me, Alistair. It's really important."

Alistair, too, hesitated. "You're acting kind of strangely. You… look worried. I… I just can't. I know it's important, whatever it is, but… we beat the Blight, didn't we? Surely I've earned a bit more downtime just to be with my family?"

"Alistair," Elizabeth said, dropping the act and letting all of her anxiety out, "please, please, try to remember how you got here, what you did today. Just that much, and then you can decide whether or not to come with me."

"O-okay, if it'll make you happy. Let's see, today I… that's funny… it's all kind of fuzzy."

"Alistair, come have some tea," the woman called, holding out a beautiful teacup that appeared out of nowhere.

"Hang on," Alistair said. "I will, in just a moment, but I have to… Yes, this doesn't make sense. The last thing I really remember – at least, that I remember doing with you – is we were at the Circle Tower, and it was under attack from demons, and… I don't remember how we won."

"We haven't won yet," Elizabeth said. "We're still fighting. It's still that day. We're in the Fade."

"This is a dream? B-but it's so real…"

"Alistair," said the woman warningly, shooting dagger glances at Elizabeth. "Don't forget to wash up before supper."

"No," Alistair said. "Sorry, Goldanna, but something doesn't feel right here. I… think I have to go."

"No!" screamed the demon. "You are ours, and I'll rather see you dead than free!"

"Maker's breath!" Alistair exclaimed, and Huan began barking furiously, as the demon picked up a huge meat cleaver and came at them. The scattered children seized other kitchen knives and followed her.

Elizabeth had her armour and her sword and shield, but Alistair currently had nothing. "Get behind me!"

"But-"

"Don't be stupid! Huan, watch yourself!" Alistair obediently took up a place at her back, leaving Elizabeth to deal with the demons unobstructed. Huan swerved to the right, flanking the child-form demons; their knives cut at him as he leapt on them, but they were all glancing blows from what Elizabeth could see.

Elizabeth had to deal with the Goldanna demon herself. She had the benefit of reach, but even as she considered that, the cleaver lengthed into an implement at least as long as her sword. This demon was not as strong with fighting as it was with deception, however, and Elizabeth and Huan managed to clean up without much difficulty.

"G-goldanna…" Alistair said. "How could I not have seen it earlier? It was… _too_ perfect."

"We were all taken in," Elizabeth said gently. "Wynne, Leliana, I too…"

"Yes, well… please don't tell everyone just how easily fooled I was."

"All right," Elizabeth said, smiling.

"Where are Wynne and Leliana?"

"They disappeared. I think you will, too. If you see them, take care of them, all right?"

"Wait, they – what's happening? Elizabeth, I don't want to disappear – ah! Your dog-!"

Huan snuffled, panicking at the sight of his paws turning transparent.

"I think you'll be fine," Elizabeth tried to reassure them, and herself. "I'll see you later once I defeat the demon!"

"Be careful!" was the last thing Alistair managed to say before he faded completely.

.

Against what felt like all odds, Elizabeth defeated all five of the demons shielding the Sloth demon. As she returned to Niall one last time, she wondered if she would have the strength left to defeat the Sloth demon itself. She wanted to rest, to just sit down beside Niall for a few minutes… but she knew that this place itself was trying to suck her energy from her, and that if she sat down, she might never stand up again.

Niall seemed much more sober than the last time she had spoken to him. "Hello."

"Hello," she said. "I'm almost done here, I think."

"I can feel it," Niall said. "You defeated the guardian demons. Sloth is free for you to strike."

"Good," Elizabeth said. "I'm very tired."

"Don't sit down."

"I won't."

"Good. What was your name again?"

"Elizabeth. And you're Niall."

"Yes, I remember that bit… I remembered more, too. Listen: it's important. Irving was sending me to get the Litany of Adralla. It protects against mental possession by blood mages. It's probably still on my body in the real world."

"That's good," Elizabeth said. "You can come with us once I get us all out of here. The others in my group all disappeared after I freed them, is that normal?"

"I couldn't say, but it's the Fade. If they're not under the control of demons, they're probably all right. But no, I can't come with you."

"Why not?" she asked, a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"I've been here too long. I can feel that too. You helped a bit, but there isn't enough of me left to go back to my body. For you, it will have been only a nap. For me… the demon has been feeding off me, using my life to fuel the nightmares of this place. You returned me to myself, but there's almost nothing left."

"No, that can't be true," Elizabeth said, upset. "You've helped me so much…"

Niall smiled. "I did almost nothing for you, really. I've been so preoccupied with my own story I can't really help you with yours except to give you the Litany. I'm sorry I can't save the Circle. But you still can."

"You've done more than that," Elizabeth objected. "It was comforting to have someone to talk to here."

They both paused for a moment.

"So when you get out," Niall began," take the Litany. It will help you against Uldred. All you have to do is read it at the right moment, you don't even have to be a mage."

"All right," Elizabeth said. "I'll make sure you are remembered."

Niall suddenly looked very tired, but calm, and not in the vacant way he'd had when Elizabeth had first arrived. "Thanks for letting me go to meet the Maker with… with some dignity. …Good luck."

Elizabeth couldn't think of anything to say, so she bowed and walked off in the direction of the Fade pedestal.

She tried to pinch herself once she reached it; it would do her no good to fight the strongest demon here with this lack of focus. But she barely felt the pinch. That was probably a bad thing. Instead, she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and went through the Fade to Sloth's lair.

There was one being awaiting her, a tall wraith-like figure who did not appear the way she thought a demon of Sloth would appear. But then, a demon could take whatever form it pleased, couldn't it?

"What have we here?" Sloth greeted her with its slow, almost jovial voice. "A rebellious minion? An escaped slave? You do have some gall." It chuckled and circled her; she turned to keep facing it. "But playtime is over. It's time to go back now."

"At least my friends are free," Elizabeth retorted, feeling her sword's weight in her hand.

The demon laughed again. "You really think so? None of you can leave my domain without defeating me, and I think you'll find that impossible. But why don't you just go back quietly? I promise I'll do better this time. I'll make you much happier."

"No," Elizabeth said. "You gave me pain, not happiness. And you gave Wynne grief! I would rather live my own life in the real world."

"Even though it will be short, and hard? Full of heartbreak, and agony, and betrayal?"

"Yes!" She jumped at the demon, fighting the sluggishness of her body, the burn in her dream-muscles, and attacked.

The demon was as slippery as the desire demon they had fought earlier; it kept drawing back from her and changing forms. Sometimes it took the shape of a demonic ogre, even more hideous than the darkspawn ogre she had fought on the Tower of Ishal, sometimes it took on that of a Rage demon, searing heat and molten stone, sometimes a lean, sinewy creature that darted and slashed with horrible claws, and sometimes the tall wraith-like figure, that cast spells at her like a mage while floating menacingly towards her.

But she could change forms as well – the mouse form would do her no good, but as a mobile statue, she could withstand a blow from even the ogre, and as a spirit, she could deflect spells and even cast some of her own.

One by one, its forms fell and it could no longer use them. She crushed the ogre in statue form, tore the molten form apart in her own burning form, and battled the sinewy creature in her own form until she slashed it to pieces.

So it came down to the wraith form against her spirit form. She was losing strength quickly, and spells in this form did not come easily to her. She cast a freezing spell at the demon, but was immediately hit with some sort of spell she had never seen before – she was immobilized, trapped behind shining bars of light, and it felt like the air or perhaps her life itself was being crushed out of her. She gasped for air, trying to move, to claw at the bars of the prison, but she couldn't even manage that.

"So here it is," the demon said, moving close to her. "Would you like to go back yet? Look how generous I am! You've tried to kill me, and indeed you've come farther than anyone has in history, but I'm still willing to put you back in your dream – swiftly, painlessly, completely free of charge."

"Nnngh," was all she could manage.

"Naturally, I will be using you for my next source of energy, so it's a pity you used up so much of it already. That isn't a renewable resource, you know!"

"'Tis," she choked out. "When free."

The demon clucked. "Shows what you know. But your friends haven't been using up their energy much… It's unlikely they'll be able to escape again without your help. I haven't known anyone to escape on their own before. You're quite remarkable. But anyway, what do you say? Must we continue this pointless, tiring conflict? You'll feel much better when you stop, I promise you."

"D-don't…"

"Don't what?" It leaned in close so its face was almost touching the bars.

"D-d-don't touch… my friends!" Elizabeth dragged one hand up through sheer force of will and shot a weak ice spell into its face.

It wasn't much, but it was enough to break the demon's concentration. She fell to the ground, gasping, and changed back into her own form. It was easier to fight in, even though the demon towered over her by several feet.

She hacked at it and kept hacking. It roared in anger and tried to freeze her, tried to imprison her again, but it was difficult for it when she kept swinging. As long as she kept it off-balance, it wouldn't be able to get another spell off. She could imagine Gilmore's voice in her ear, giving her sparring advice as he had so many times before-

She choked, sliced her sword horizontally through the partly-ethereal body, and was rewarded by the demon screaming as it fell in two pieces to and through the ground.

Immediately she felt like the world was becoming completely indistinct, turning grey and hazy around her, and felt panic – what if she, too, had been here too long and was dying?

.

.

She woke on the cold stone floor of the Circle Tower, Huan nudging her face insistently.

She pushed his nose away. "All right, all right, I'm awake." It was so hard to push herself up even to a sitting position. Next to her, Alistair was grunting sleepily. Leliana was already sitting up, but Wynne was just beginning to stir.

Before her lay the body of the abomination that had once held the Sloth demon, and at its feet lay Niall, still and dead. She crawled towards him and closed his eyes gently. In one hand he still clutched a scroll; she pulled it loose and unrolled it.

"What's that?" Leliana asked, crawling towards her.

"It's called the Litany of Adralla, and Niall said it would help us fight Uldred."

Wynne had sat up. "That's for defending against mental possession by blood mages."

"That's how he explained it to me," Elizabeth said. "He said to read it at the right moment, even if you're not a mage, and it would… help."

"I think I know what to do," Wynne said. "If you give it to me, I will know when to use it."

"Oh, would you?" Elizabeth said in relief. "Thank you. That makes me much less worried."

Alistair had finally sat up. "Um, congratulations on getting us out of there. That can't have been easy."

Elizabeth used Huan's bulk to help herself to her feet. "Thank you. I think I'm recovering. How about you?"

"I… might need a minute. And I didn't work nearly as hard as you…"

"You're also older than she is," Leliana said slyly.

"Oh, speak for yourself," Alistair retorted.

Wynne cleared her throat pointedly, already standing, and they all laughed. It was nice to let some of the tension out, and they were in good spirits as they ascended to the last floor.

Once they reached the top of the stairs, their mood became grim and businesslike again. Wynne took the lead, and stopped at the top of the stairs, peeking out cautiously and trying not to be seen. After a moment she invited the others to join her.

Something horrible was happening, that much Elizabeth could tell from the sounds and the flashing blue light. What she saw was worse. A mage was suspended in a shell of crackling blue light, flanked by two abominations. Another man, presumably Uldred, was standing in front of him, holding the mage's head in his hands as the captive groaned in pain.

"Do you accept the gift I offer?" asked Uldred, and the light abruptly vanished, the man fell to the floor, and now Uldred and the two abominations channeled more blue lightning through their hands and into his body. The mage arched his back and screamed, but in a few seconds the screams became hoarse and gurgling. The light stopped again, and a third abomination stood to join the other two.

Uldred turned to one side of the room, and Elizabeth saw several more mages there, bound with ropes.

"Irving!" Wynne cried. "We must stop him, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth nodded and ran out of hiding to block Uldred. Her heart pounded in her chest; she had her friends with her, but these enemies were terrifying. "Stop right there!"

"I bid you welcome, intruder," Uldred said, sounding amused. "How can I disobey when you say that in such a commanding voice?"

Elizabeth did not answer, only trying to control her breathing.

"I must say I am impressed that you're still alive. However, I must assume that means you killed all my servants. Ah well, they are probably better off dying in the service to their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence. A mage is a larval form, you see, of something greater. Your Chantry vilifies this, when in fact here we will reach our true potential!" He gestured to Irving. "Look at them. The Chantry has them convinced, and so they deny themselves the opportunity to become something glorious."

"Can you stop him monologuing, please?" Alistair whispered. "My head's starting to hurt with all the nonsense."

"There's nothing glorious about what you've become, Uldred," Wynne snapped, her staff ready to attack. "You have been swallowed up entirely by a Pride demon."

Uldred shrugged. "I could give you this gift too, Wynne, you and all mages. It would be so much better for everyone if you just accepted it. But some people can be so stubborn."

"I don't suppose I can talk you into giving up, either," Elizabeth said. "I think we shall have to do this the hard way."

"So be it," Uldred said. "It will only make my victory all the sweeter." He flung his head back, stretched his arms towards the ceiling, and transformed into a beast larger than the ogre from the Tower of Ishal and uglier than the Sloth demon ogre. Elizabeth's eyes widened in alarm and she had just time to dive out of the way of a blow from the monster. The abominations attacked as well, and for a moment, the only thing she could focus on was staying alive.

"Wynne! How do we fight this!?"

"Defeat the abominations first," Wynne called, having backed away to a safe distance to cast spells from. "Keep him on the run. I will take care of the Litany."

"Right. Huan! With me! Leliana, distract Uldred! Alistair, take the other abomination!"

Leliana began to run, turning to shoot an arrow and then run again. Uldred followed her across the room, but Elizabeth knew he would turn back to them soon when he couldn't catch her. They needed to finish the abominations before then. That was easier said than done; while they seemed to have limited or no magic left, despite being a combination of mage and demon, they were big and strong and seemed to feel no pain. They had discovered it before, but they hadn't had to fight three at once and Elizabeth was nervous despite having Huan beside her.

The floor shook, and Elizabeth looked over to see Uldred charging like a bull at Leliana, who neatly skipped out of his path with a yelp before firing another arrow into his shoulder.

Huan barked and Elizabeth reacted instinctively, hitting out with her shield. The abomination staggered back, and she let Huan reach up to drag it down while she turned to the other one.

A blue light began to swirl around one of the captive mages, who began to wriggle, panicked. But Wynne's voice rose in a brief chant, and the light faded away. Elizabeth breathed a short sigh of relief. The Litany worked.

The floor rumbled again, and Leliana shouted a breathless warning – too late. Elizabeth was thrown to the floor by an immense blow and trampled, crushed half to death. She would have shrieked, but the breath had been knocked out of her and all she could do was cough in agony. She heard Alistair shout and Huan howl, and then Wynne was at her side, soothing the pain, knitting the bones and torn flesh together, helping her up, but then Wynne had to leave her to read the Litany again.

Elizabeth gulped air into her lungs, taking stock of the situation. Alistair had finished his abomination, and had turned to fight Uldred. Huan and Leliana were fighting the last abomination…

Wynne gasped, and Elizabeth looked over to see her trapped… in shining bars of light. Elizabeth gritted her teeth in anger and charged. She had no clear plan in mind, no real strategy to defeat the demon, just to distract it enough to release Wynne. If they couldn't, Wynne might die… and Uldred would continue to transform mages into abominations.

"Whoa!" Alistair said as she ran past him. "Let's talk about this-!"

"Any suggestions!?" she shot back, thudding shield-first into the monster's leg. "Wynne is going to die!"

"Oh, in that case… Leliana! Let me take care of that thing for you! Elizabeth needs you!"

Leliana came running, knelt on one knee for added stability, and loosed an arrow at the creature's head. It shook it off and tried to punch Elizabeth, who jumped away, tripped, accidentally dodging a second blow, and rolled to her feet again.

The blue light began to form again, and Elizabeth almost despaired – but then Leliana's clear voice rang out, and the light faded.

"What- how-"

"I'm a bard," Leliana said, smiling. "If I hear a thing, I can repeat it perfectly. Keep fighting! We can do it!"

Elizabeth shot a glance at Wynne. The elderly woman looked like she was on the edge of passing out. The thought alone drove her forward again, even though she knew she had little chance of killing the demon. The wounds it had taken were insignificant so far.

"Here!" Alistair shouted, trotting over to them, Huan at his heels. "Elizabeth, we have to coordinate. If we can get its head in striking range…"

It lowered its head, and for a moment Alistair gave a shout of triumph – before it blew a blast of fire over all of them. Elizabeth and Alistair ducked, saved a bit by their armour, but Huan howled and Leliana ran to him, trying to smother the flames that burned in his fur.

"Come on, come on, come on," Alistair growled, straightening up and slashing at the demon's throat and face. The demon simply swung and picked him up with a massive fist. Elizabeth's follow-up attack glanced off its hide.

"You're finished!" came a shout from the other side of the room, and a massive rock hurtled past Elizabeth to smack the monster in the face. Alistair fell to the ground, landed on his feet, and as the monster swayed, stabbed it in the throat. Blood gushed over him and he stumbled back as it collapsed at his feet.

Elizabeth turned. "Wynne! You're all right!"

"That suicide attack was quite effective in loosening my prison," Wynne said, still panting. "I wish you hadn't had to do it, but thank you." She raised her staff and healed them all at once.

They took a moment to collect themselves, still breathing hard. Then Wynne rushed over to where Irving lay bound, and untied him.

"Maker, I'm too old for this," Irving said in a creaky, gravelly voice as she helped him to his feet. Leliana hurried to help untie the other captive mages.

"Are you all right?" Wynne asked.

"I've… been better. I am thankful to be alive, however. I suppose that is your doing, isn't it, Wynne?"

"I had a lot of help," Wynne said, gesturing to Elizabeth and the others. Elizabeth bowed her head politely. Only then did she notice her armour was in extremely poor condition. Plates were hanging loose, or heavily dented, and some of the chain mail had been torn. She would have to see if it could be fixed once they got back to Redcliffe.

"The Circle owes all of you a debt we can never repay," Irving said to them. "But we should go downstairs. Is the rest of the Tower safe?"

"It is as safe as I can tell," Wynne said. "We were searching for you, and we looked in every room I could think of. There might be a few places but I think we shall be a match for any leftover demons now."

"We should let the Templars know as soon as possible," Elizabeth said. "Knight-Commander Gregoire will not accept the Tower is safe until he hears that you are alive. He said he would give us as long as he could but he was preparing the Rite of Annulment when I first entered here and I am not entirely certain how long ago that was."

Irving nodded. "I'll need you to assist me down the stairs." He began to shuffle in their direction. "Curse whoever insisted the Circle be housed in a tower…"

"Leliana, can you go on ahead with Huan and tell Gregoire to wait for us?" Elizabeth said. "I wouldn't want to be late by only a few minutes."

"As you say!" Leliana cried cheerfully, and with the dog bounding at her side, set off down the stairs at a run.

"Easier than climbing up," Alistair said, still sounding tired from the fight. "Here, ser, my arm."

.

They arrived at the sealed door not too long after, and on hearing Irving's voice, Gregoire opened the gates. The group had taken the other surviving mages with them, and now they gratefully flooded into the room with the Templars, where they were checked over by other mages for injury or perhaps other things.

"Irving!" Gregoire said. "I did not expect to see you alive again. Maker be praised."

"It is over, Gregoire," Irving said. "Uldred is dead."

Another Templar stepped up, one who had been inspecting the newly arrived mages. "Uldred tortured these mages, hoping to break their wills and turn them into abominations. We don't know how many have turned."

"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Irving with the authority of decades.

"Of course he'll say that, he might be a blood mage!" the Templar insisted. "Don't you know what they did!? I won't let the Circle fall a second time!"

"I am the Knight-Commander here, not you," Gregoire said sternly, and the Templar subsided. "Irving was not turned. I believe order has been restored to the Circle."

"We will rebuild," Irving said. "The Circle will go on, and we will learn from this tragedy and be strengthened by it."

"Well, it seems you have won back the Tower," Gregoire said to Elizabeth. "I thank you for insisting on being allowed in. You have proven yourself a friend of both the Circle and the Templars. I regret now that I did not offer you more help, but I can make up for that now. Irving, did this young lady explain her mission to you?"

"No."

Elizabeth took a deep breath. "I am one of the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Just before the battle at Ostagar, my companion Alistair and I recovered ancient Warden treaties for aid in the time of a Blight. One of them was signed by the First Enchanter of the Circle Tower."

"I see," Irving said, and traded a look with Gregoire.

"My first duty is to guard the mages," Gregoire said. "However, they are free to assist you, and we shall be with them if and when they do so. For now, I would like to undertake an official sweep of the Tower. I will leave you to it." He hesitated. "And Irving? It is good to have you back."

"I'm sure we'll be at each other's throats again in no time," Irving said with a twinkle in his eye.

Gregoire smirked slightly, and then bowed and marched away, calling for Templars to join him.

"Now, young lady – Grey Warden, let's see what we can do for you," Irving said. "Surely we can get a couple of chairs around here? Do you have this treaty with you?"

"I do," Elizabeth said. "There is another matter, a more time-sensitive one, that I want to speak to you about."

"Please, go ahead." A small folding table and two mismatched chairs were set up at the side of the room for them, and they sat.

Elizabeth showed him the treaty, and then told him about Connor, and waited for his reaction.

"So Jowan survived," Irving said, and sighed. "That boy was always too impatient, too easily discouraged. While I'm glad to hear he is alive, he hasn't exactly landed on his feet, has he? And now the only thing that we can do for him is to make him Tranquil. Dear, dear. But the boy, young Lord Guerrin, yes, we can do what Jowan suggests. We can get a suitable group together… perhaps hire a cart from the inn, my old bones can't walk that whole way…"

"Irving," Wynne interrupted, "I would like to go with Elizabeth. I can help her on her way, if she will have me."

"We do have to do a lot of walking," Alistair said. "It's mostly walking, in fact, mixed with the occasional bout of screaming and yelling and running and fighting."

"Are you trying to discourage me from coming?" Wynne teased him. "Do you think I am too old?"

"Er, well, I'd love to have your healing skills with us, but… yes?"

"Oh Alistair, you are a sweetheart." Wynne smiled sweetly as Alistair cast a suspicious eye at her. "But I will be fine. I did plenty of journeying. How did you think I got to Ostagar?"

"Well, okay, if you say so," Alistair mumbled, and subsided.

"I give Wynne leave to travel with you if she so desires," Irving said. "It's far easier than trying to talk her out of it. We could use you here, but… you were never one to stay in the tower, were you? Not when there was adventure to be had elsewhere."

Wynne smiled. "Why thank you, First Enchanter." Irving sighed and shook his head.

"I would love to have you with us," Elizabeth said to Wynne, and turned back to Irving. "So you will help us?"

"We shall. You should probably go ahead of us to ensure we are not attacked on the road by anyone – or anything – but rest assured we shall arrive at Redcliffe tomorrow."

"Thank you so much," Elizabeth said.

"And when you send us word, we shall assemble to fight the darkspawn. We can do no less for this treaty, and I would hate to survive this only to be overcome by the Blight."

Elizabeth swallowed. She was really doing this. She had an ally to fight the darkspawn with, but the other side was that they were counting on her to win, and some of them would die whether she won or not, and that thought frightened her almost as much as the Blight did.

"There is much to be done here, first," Irving said, "and if I am to make a journey to Redcliffe this same night, I must attend to some things. I shall see you soon, I am sure."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "We shall set off immediately."

.

The ferry came across for them at a sign from one of the Templars of the Tower, and when they had arrived on shore, it immediately set out again for the Tower to await the mages and the Templars who would accompany them. There was no sign of Sten or Morrigan. It was late afternoon. Less time had passed than Elizabeth had thought.

Alistair looked around impatiently. "Do you think they ditched us?"

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" Leliana teased.

"I doubt it," Elizabeth said. "Leliana, check at the inn. Alistair, Wynne, let's head to the road. Perhaps they are waiting for us there. We'll wait there for Leliana to rejoin us before continuing to search, if they're not there."

But when they reached the top of the hill, they heard strange, distant noises that sounded a lot like Morrigan, and they sounded like Morrigan being threatening.

"I think we had better go find out what she's doing," Elizabeth amended the plan. "Is that her lightning?"

They came across Sten, holding a scruffy, terrified man from escaping, while Morrigan held a crackling ball of purple lightning under his nose. "If you have lied to us… or withheld the least bit of information…"

"I told you everything I know! I swear!"

"Morrigan," Elizabeth said, quietly but firmly, and Morrigan turned to her with a roll of her eyes. The lightning vanished with a puff.

"Don't you start sounding like my mother. What do you want?"

"We're ready to go. What are you doing?"

"This man owed us some information," Morrigan said carelessly. "I suppose we've gotten all we can out of him."

"Can you let him go, then?" Elizabeth said. "Has he done something wrong?"

"He took my sword, and thus my honour," Sten spoke for the first time, gritting his teeth as he said so – but he let the man go and he scampered off with a whimper. "And sold it to a man travelling to the Frostback Mountains to trade with the dwarves."

"I see," Elizabeth said slowly. "We will be going there eventually but we must complete our current mission."

"I have said I will follow you," Sten said. "I will not break my word. It's only a lead, anyway. It will probably come to nothing."

"I will keep it in mind anyway," Elizabeth said. "Let's go back to where we're meeting Leliana. Morrigan, Sten, this is Wynne. Wynne, these are the others I told you about; Morrigan, and Sten. Could you help Sten? He's injured."

"I see," Wynne said, and fearlessly walked up to the big Qunari and healed his arm with her staff. Elizabeth wasn't quite sure, but she thought he was impressed with the mage for that. But then he asked: "Why do you stare like that, mage?"

"I beg your pardon," Wynne said, slightly flustered. "I've never seen a Qunari before."

Sten turned away. "You can blink once in a while. I'll still be here."

They set out a few minutes later, hiking back the long road to Redcliffe.

And thoughts of a man's hands across her body kept running through her thoughts…


	6. Return to Ostagar

Ostagar

.

The small group marched wearily but steadily southwest along the road to Redcliffe. They'd eaten, and it was growing dark, but they wanted to go on a bit farther before stopping for the night. It was still late autumn.

And that was well not only for them, but for others they met on the road, Elizabeth thought, as a frantic-looking woman burst into view, screaming something about bandits.

"Help! Help me!" she cried, running up to them before coming to a halt and bending over to lean on her knees and pant. "You look… like a reputable lot."

"We do?" Morrigan said, amused.

"My caravan – bandits – they're killing everyone! Please… save my family!"

"We'll do everything we can," Elizabeth said reassuringly. "Just up the road?"

The woman nodded, her head still bent low. "I'll follow you in a moment, just… give me a moment… to catch my breath. Hurry! Every moment counts!"

"Let's go," Elizabeth said, and they began to jog tiredly up the road. Sten and Morrigan should be their main point of attack, she thought, since they had not had to fight through the Circle Tower and had probably been quite bored all afternoon.

She got the first inkling that things might not be as they seemed when she came across a ruined caravan… but there while there were some signs of a struggle, there were no dead bodies, and the bandits were waiting for them.

"It's a trap," Alistair cried.

"Noooo, really? I would never have guessed," Morrigan said.

"Sten, take the right side; Alistair, take our left. Wynne, right, Morrigan, left." Elizabeth rattled off placements as fast as she could, and raised her shield to guard against incoming arrows. The bandits were charging them now, and they counter-charged.

Elizabeth was going to go with Alistair but she had seen an elf in the back of the group, giving orders. Now he nocked an arrow to his bow and aimed it – at her.

Without their commander, the bandits would falter. The ones they were fighting were not very good; Elizabeth had become much more sure of herself even since they had met bandits in Lothering and any of these one-on-one would be no match for her. But their commander was very good; she could tell from his deft, precise movements and steady eyes.

She raised her shield and charged at him; the arrow struck the shield, and another, before another one grazed her shin – but she was moving too fast for him to get a good aim at her feet. She knocked a bandit aside with her sword and then she was upon him. She was already impressed he had managed to get three arrows off in the short time it took her to cover the ground between them.

He was very fast, faster than she was – he had already danced away, unsheathing a pair of wicked-looking daggers. The bandits scattered to give them room; they were as afraid of their leader as of their targets, it seemed, but now she had to worry slightly less about her back. But she was outmatched here, and they both knew it. She barely had any opportunity to attack; everything she did was defending and blocking with both sword and shield. His daggers were a dazzling blur, and she frowned in concentration. It was good that her father and brother had trained her so well in defense.

Somehow, she sensed it. He wasn't fighting at his best. He was certainly trying to kill her, but he wasn't fighting to his full ability.

Still defending, she began to advance again, pushing back against his onslaught, and he drew back to re-evaluate her. She gave him no time to do so, getting in a couple attacks of her own, forcing him on the defensive – a place she could already feel he was not comfortable. But he leapt aside and came back on the attack from a new angle, turning the flow of battle yet again.

"Leliana's down!" came a cry from farther back, and Elizabeth felt her heart jump into her throat. But instead of jumping into a frenzy of counterattacks, she backed off a bit, and her opponent let her, watching her with curiosity.

She charged him again, apparently taking him by surprise – she wasn't sure she truly believed she had, but she would take it. Her shield met his face, throwing him backwards and into a rocky cliffside. He fell to the ground, limp as a string.

She paused just long enough to make sure he was truly unconscious, and ran back to help deal with the rest of the bandits.

Those posed little to no trouble for the rest of them, and Wynne was helping Leliana recover from a slash in her side, so Elizabeth grabbed some rope from the caravan, told Alistair, Sten, and Huan to come with her, and went to tie up the bandit leader.

"Why?" Alistair said bluntly. "He's a bandit. End of story. Just kill him."

"I don't think he is," she said. "He fought far too well to simply be a bandit. I want to know exactly who he is before we kill him – if we must kill him."

"You just think he's pretty," grunted her fellow Warden.

Elizabeth blinked and considered that. Perhaps her captive was rather handsome, with shoulder-length blond hair, an elegant nose, and high cheekbones. His skin was darkly tanned and he had several graceful looking tattoos that accented his left eye. But he was an elf. Most elves were rather handsome, and she'd never felt much interest for one before. She was a human, after all. She shrugged at Alistair. "It's not important."

Alistair grunted, unconvinced, as he helped her tie up the elf. She felt around his skull and decided he hadn't been too badly damaged by her last attack. She hoped that she was right; she was no healer.

He hadn't stirred while they manhandled them, so now she blew in his face and patted his cheeks, trying to wake him up.

He stirred; his eyes fluttered, and he groaned. His voice was lighter than she had expected. "Mm… what… I… oh." He blinked again, looking around at them with vivid amber eyes.

She sat on the ground in front of him as he was propped up against the cliff he had bashed his head on, and the others came to crowd around behind her, forming an intimidating backdrop.

The elf smiled ruefully. "I rather thought I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet." He spoke with a lilting Antivan accent. "Unless you are an angel." He grinned at her.

"I was hoping you could answer some questions," Elizabeth said firmly.

"Ah, so I am to be interrogated? Let me save you some time." A bright smile. "My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, currently working in the Ferelden division. My mission was to slay any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly." Another bright smile accompanied by a chuckle.

She had heard of the Crows before, probably from her sister-in-law Oriana. They were a rightly-feared organization of assassins who well-nigh controlled the country of Antiva. They always got the job done. Always. And their services were ridiculously expensive.

"Your fourth-rate goons were pathetic," Morrigan said. "I thought Crows were supposed to be good."

Zevran shrugged as well as he could while tied up. "My information was sadly out of date. I was told to watch for two warriors and a mabari. I made allowances for one extra companion. You are more popular than my employer realized." The numbers made sense, Elizabeth agreed. If they had only been the group from Ostagar, they would have been overwhelmed.

"Who hired you to kill us?" she demanded.

"A rather bitter nobleman in the capital," Zevran said. "Howe, I believe his name was. Arl of something and the other thing, and Teyrn of something else. On behalf of the Lord Regent, he said, but he described your beauty so well I feel there must be something personal between you."

Elizabeth tried to keep her face from sinking into a glare and only partly succeeded. "That would be correct, yes."

"Lord Regent?" Alistair said. "That would be Loghain?"

"I think so," Zevran said. "I met him as well, returning from Ostagar while I was attempting to track you down. A dour, taciturn fellow. From what I know, he is acting as Lord Regent on behalf of his daughter the Queen. He didn't seem terribly impressed with Howe's idea, but he didn't stop him either."

Elizabeth fixed him with the most quelling stare she could manage. "Are you loyal to Howe or Loghain?"

"I have no idea what his issues are with you," Zevran said cheerfully. "The usual, I imagine. You threaten his power, yes? Beyond that, no, I am not loyal to him. I was contracted to perform a service."

"When were you to see him next?" Leliana asked, and Elizabeth agreed. If Howe should be able to track them…

"Why, never," Zevran said. "I would deliver proof of my assassination to the Crow office, and they would pass it on to Howe."

"How much were you paid?" Alistair broke in curiously.

Zevran chuckled again. "I was not paid anything. The Crows, however, were paid quite handsomely, or so they told me. Which does make me about as poor as a Chantry mouse, come to think of it. Being a Crow is not for the ambitious, to be perfectly honest."

"Then why are you one?" Alistair asked, perplexed.

"Well, aside from a distinct lack of ambition, I wasn't really given much of a choice. But it's not so bad. They keep you well supplied with wine, women, men, whatever you happen to fancy." He winked. "Though the whole severance package is garbage, let me tell you. If you were considering joining, I'd really think twice about it if I were you."

"I'll take that under advisement," Elizabeth said drily. "What happens now that you have not killed us?"

"Why, that is between your Teyrn Howe and the Crows. And between the Crows and me."

"I believe the punishment for failure is death," Leliana murmured.

"That is true," Zevran admitted. "If I had failed, I would be dead. Or I should be, at least as far as the Crows are concerned. No need to trouble Teyrn Howe then."

"Don't call him Teyrn Howe," Elizabeth hissed.

"My apologies," Zevran said easily, and she could see him calculating just how she might know Howe in his thoughts.

" _If_ you had failed?" Morrigan asked with an eyebrow raised.

"What can I say? I'm an eternal optimist," he said, laughing. "My chances at this point, however, seem a bit slim. No, I don't suppose you'd find that funny, would you?"

Elizabeth looked closely at him. His manner was easy enough, his laughter seemed genuine, and she was more or less certain he was telling the truth. She was also impressed that he could find it in him to laugh about his circumstances. But… something about him still seemed…

"Why are you telling us this so easily?" she asked, and the elf seemed surprised.

"Why, you asked. I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, exactly."

"You wouldn't be loyal to the one who bought your services?"

Zevran put his head on one side. "Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further if you wish?"

"What do you mean?" Alistair asked warily.

"Here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will. Here's the other thing: I like living. And you are obviously the sort to give the Crows pause. So… let me serve you, instead."

"Absolutely not!" Alistair exclaimed.

"Why not?" Morrigan countered, bored but amused. "It should keep you on your toes. Or are you just jealous?"

"I'm not jealous," Alistair muttered. "Just don't want to wake up with a knife in my back. Yours or his. What's to stop him from finishing the job later?"

For the first time, Zevran looked down and away from them. "I was never given a choice when it came to joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I was a very good bargain, or so I'm told. I think I've paid my worth back to them a hundredfold and then some. The only way out, however, is to join someone they can't touch. And those people are rare."

"Oh, you're not going to believe his puppydog eyes, are you?" Alistair snorted.

Zevran looked straight at Elizabeth. She didn't really see the puppydog eyes. "Even if I killed you later, they might just kill me on principle for failing the first time. I'd rather take my chances with you."

"You don't seem very loyal," Morrigan said cheerfully, and Zevran smirked at her.

"I happen to be a very loyal person. Up to the point where someone expects me to die for failing, not a fan of that part. That's not a fault, really, is it? Unless you happen to be the sort who expects the same thing. In which case… I… don't come very well recommended, do I. But you don't seem that sort."

"No," Elizabeth agreed in a low voice. "What if they come after you?"

"I know their ways, and I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you would need it, I think – I was one of their best, and you defeated me."

"You weren't fighting at your best," she said, without thinking, and saw surprise flash across his face.

"What?" Alistair said. "And you're still considering taking him? What if this was his plan all along, to lose and then join us and _then_ kill us?"

"I can't say I approve of this course of action," Wynne said. "I trust you know what you're doing."

Elizabeth raised her chin slightly. "Very well. What sort of skills do you offer us, and what do you wish from us in return?"

Zevran smiled. "I am highly skilled at fighting with daggers, swords, bows; I can move stealthily and pick locks; I can warn you if the Antivan Crows make any more attempts on all our lives. I can also tell a great many jokes, and I know six different massage techniques and twelve different card games. I do wonderful parties, no?" He chuckled at his own joke. "Let's see. For my end… being allowed to live would be nice, and would make me marginally more useful to you. If, further down the line, you have no more use for me, then I shall go on my way and be of no more bother to you. Until then, however, I am yours to do with as you please. Is that fair?"

"I really don't think this is a good idea," Alistair objected one more time. "We're really taking the _assassin_ with us? If there were a sign that we were desperate, I think it just knocked on the door and said hello."

"Collecting cast-offs is what she does, isn't it?" Morrigan said. "Hence your oh so charming, sophisticated presence."

"Hey!"

"Just watch your food and drink from now on," Morrigan told Elizabeth casually.

"That's excellent advice for anyone," Zevran said to Morrigan.

"I still cannot approve," Wynne said. "But I will help him if I must."

"I promise I shall be no burden to you, my dear… unless you wish me to be," he said, and winked again.

"Oh, Maker," Wynne threw up her hands in exasperation and walked away.

Sten shrugged. Huan looked at them all curiously.

Elizabeth paused for a while, staring at him, trying to read him. He seemed to be telling the truth, and his mouth smiled but his eyes were devoid of hope. Resigned, perhaps. And it was that, more than anything else, that convinced her.

"I will accept your help," she said at last, slowly. "I do not entirely trust you-"

"Finally, some sense," Alistair muttered.

"I can't tell if I'm more shocked that I agree with you, or that you think you are sensible," Morrigan retorted.

Elizabeth ignored them. "But I believe you." She took her knife and cut the elf free - it wasn't her rope, she didn't care - then helped him stand up. He grinned a little as she offered him her hand, but it left his face as he stood at attention and looked her in the eye steadily and seriously. "I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man without reservation, this I swear."

"I accept your oath," she said as she would to a knight of Highever. As she had said, once upon a time…

"Sooo… who exactly are you and what are you doing?" he asked, the bright smile back on his face, the smile that she did not believe was entirely real.

"I'd like you to take point with Sten and Leliana," she told him. They'd be able to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't try anything threatening. "Leliana can tell you everything."

He shrugged agreeably and did as she asked.

.

They did not make camp very long after, but they wanted to put some distance between them and Zevran's failed ambush site. Their meal was quiet – most of them were exhausted and in no mood for talking.

Elizabeth wanted badly to rest, but she also wanted to know more about their new companion. The more she knew, the sooner she could rely on him. As it was, it was probably going to be awkward for a few weeks since even she didn't trust him yet. She believed it would come, since he had put his trust in them… or had he? She didn't know but she wanted to. However, believing the best of this stranger without cause could be deadly.

And talking to him would put off any nightmares for a while. But that was a selfish reason.

"Can I ask you some more questions?" she said quietly to him as he, she, and Leliana sat at the campfire. Wynne and Alistair had already gone to bed; Morrigan had withdrawn to her own little corner of camp as was becoming her habit, and Huan was snoring slightly beside Elizabeth. Sten was on watch.

Zevran looked up at her with a smirk. "By all means; as long as I get to stare luridly at you while you do so."

Elizabeth felt colour rush to her cheeks. The nerve he had! "Why you-" She almost rose, intending to go over to him and slap him, but then she noticed that his gaze was still steady on her eyes and he was laughing at her. Huan twitched, startled in his sleep by her sudden movement, but subsided again.

"That wasn't very nice," Leliana scolded Zevran, but she too was hiding a smile behind her hand.

Elizabeth felt flustered and turned her head away.

"What would you like to know, my lovely Grey Warden?" Zevran asked, a little more gently.

He wasn't going to apologize, was he. Maybe assassin training did not include manners. "Well… my… sister-in-law was from Antiva. I wanted to know more about it."

"It is a warm place, warmer than this cold, harsh Ferelden. It rains often, but the flowers are always in bloom, as they say. I myself hail from Antiva City, a glittering gem amidst the sand. But surely you know this much already. Why can you not ask your sister-in-law once you return home?"

Elizabeth stared into the fire. "I was the daughter of Teyrn Bryce Cousland. Arl Howe betrayed and murdered my parents, my family, my best friend, everyone who was in Castle Highever on that night. I and three others escaped only thanks to Duncan, a Grey Warden. My brother was not there, but he went into the Wilds at Ostagar and never returned. He never even knew of Howe's betrayal."

"I see," Zevran said. "I think I begin to understand why you hate Howe so much – and why you deny him the title Loghain has given him."

"I cannot hold the title," Elizabeth said. "I gave up that right when I became a Grey Warden." And a number of other things that made her want to cry, especially with her current state of exhaustion, but she choked that back and went on. "But I would rather die than see it bestowed on such a one as he."

Zevran was silent a moment. "How did an Antivan woman meet your brother?"

If she could talk about it without crying, she would tell him. "My brother Fergus… no, I should not start there. Oriana's father was a rich trader who came often to Ferelden, staying for months at a time. One time, he brought his daughter, who… while she did not like how cold and dreary Ferelden was compared to her homeland…"

"Something I'm sure everyone notices," Zevran teased her.

"…She liked the company of Denerim's nobles, and in particular, one rather uncouth, bumbling… twit, who liked her very much in return. I'm not entirely sure what she saw in my brother to stay with _him_ , but in any case they were married within the year."

"You are so flattering to your brother," Zevran commented, and Leliana giggled a bit.

"He loved to tease me," Elizabeth said ruefully. "I am very much a younger sibling, and he the older sibling. He helped me train with the sword, and he would pull pranks on me and generally be terrible. W-we did love each other, but sometimes it was not so apparent." She swallowed hard.

"Did they have any children?" Leliana asked eagerly. "Did you spoil them as their aunt?"

"My nephew, Oren. He-he was only five…" She broke off, swallowing again, jaw clenched and head fiercely proud. She would not weep in front of her companions, especially not the new one.

"I'm sorry," Leliana said softly.

"Have you ever had Antivan wine?" Zevran interrupted, and she seized on it gratefully.

"I'm not sure," she said. "Oriana might have obtained some, and we might have drunk some of it, but I do not remember."

"I've had it many times," Leliana said. "Although Orlesians prefer their own wine, Antivan wine does make it onto many tables at many fancy gatherings."

"It is what Antiva is famous for," Zevran said, "and you are certainly missing out if you don't remember trying it. If we ever go to Denerim I shall try to get some for you. The only way to truly experience Antiva is to go there, but the wine… could be a substitute while you are fighting this Blight."

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "I suppose that is something to look forward to."

He looked at her frankly. "I'm not actually going to poison you."

"I mostly believe you," she said. "I'm trying to decide whether or not I should try to trust you or whether I should try to distrust you. It is difficult to do either."

"I know," he said. "I find it amusing. I know that I will not lift a finger against you, but tough luck trying to convince you or your companions of that instantly, no? You cannot read my mind and perceive my intentions as I feel them."

"No one would want to read _your_ mind," Leliana quipped. "You say entirely too much of it as it is."

He grinned wickedly. "Can I help it, when surrounded by so many attractive people? My last group, the fourth-rate goons, as your sexy friend with the shining dark hair put it, was not nearly so beautiful – or interesting. Only one woman, and she was quite plain compared to the two of you, not to mention everyone else here…"

"That's quite enough," Leliana cried. "I am going to bed. Are you coming, Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth thought she heard Zevran mutter something, something that sounded like "that's what she said", but she didn't understand what that meant and ignored it. His private smirk told her all she needed to know, anyway. "I think I shall." She stood and bowed to the elf. "Good night."

"Good night, Grey Warden."

.

The next day, it rained, and they came to Redcliffe with the mages, all completely sodden. Their coming had been seen from far off, and Isolde and Teagan were waiting for them.

"I must apologize for taking so long," was the first thing Elizabeth said. "There was a crisis at the Circle Tower and it needed to be resolved before the mages could come."

"I understand," Teagan said. "We were worried for you, but Connor has locked himself in his room and has made not a sound since you left."

"The demon has run out of resources in this world," Irving said. "It is biding its time until we try to rescue the boy, at which time it will attempt to seize the mage who does the rescuing. It will be a delicate operation; if we fail, the demon will have a new victim and the boy will die."

Isolde let out a loud sniffle.

"We shall not let that happen," Irving said to her kindly. "Where is Jowan?"

"He is in a cell," Isolde said. "The Warden said not to lock him up again, but I do not trust that man."

Irving sighed. "Fair enough. I suppose Arl Eamon will wish to pass judgement on him when he recovers, and I cannot interfere with that, even though the only likely outcome will be execution." Behind him, Elizabeth saw two of the younger mages look at each other with alarm. "Well, leave him there; we can start without him. I will speak to him later."

"Who is the mage going into the Fade?" Teagan asked.

"Any senior mage here would be suitable," Irving said. "I would even volunteer myself. Does anyone have any opinions on the matter?"

Elizabeth hesitated. "My friend Morrigan… is more than a match for anything in the Fade."

Morrigan blinked. "I am flattered by your confidence, I suppose. Although this will be an enormous bother, you realize."

"This woman is a mage?" one of the Templars demanded, his hand going to his weapon. "She's an apostate, isn't she!?"

Elizabeth took a quick, aggressive step forward. "She is from another Circle and she is with me." Well, now she had lied for an ally – and so easily, too. How strange it felt.

The Templar, however, subsided, and no one else showed signs of giving them trouble.

"I will accept your volunteer," Irving said. "Let us begin."

Elizabeth wasn't needed for the ritual, and so with Isolde's permission went to explore the castle. It was still raining steadily, so she kept indoors. She was beginning to dry off and did not want to change that state. She was in Arl Eamon's office, looking at the paintings and the books, when something on the desk caught her eye. She turned to it and picked it up.

It was a ceramic amulet with the symbol of Andraste's Flame on it in silver. It was old and cracked, but it looked like it had been painstakingly reassembled from some shattered state.

"What's that you're looking at?" Alistair asked, peering over her shoulder, and she felt him go very still. "Oh. That's-"

"What is it?" She turned to face him and handed it to him. He turned it over and over in his hands for a long time, studying the damage and the repair. His face was unreadable.

"I told you I lived here once, right?" he said quietly.

"Yes, I think so. But Isolde had you sent you to the chantry when you were still young."

"Well… This was my treasure as a child. It belonged to my mother, you see. I was… so upset, so furious at being sent away that I threw it at the wall… Fancy finding it here, of all places. I suppose… Arl Eamon must have found it. And then repaired it and kept it. I don't understand, why would he do that?"

"Maybe you meant more to him than you thought," Elizabeth said. "Perhaps he regretted… things."

"Yes… things. …We never really talked, and then the way I left…" He was quiet for another moment. "Thank you. I mean it. I thought I'd lost this forever from my own stupidity."

"I did nothing," Elizabeth said. "I'm glad you have it now."

He smiled shyly and tried to loop it around his neck, but the chain was too short, so he put it in his pocket with another sheepish smile. "I'll need to talk to him if he- _when_ he recovers. Thanks again." Elizabeth smiled back at him, and he left the room.

.

She kept wandering, and eventually found her way to the armoury. There she found Zevran, with Sten watching him. Both men were looking at the racks of polished weapons, occasionally trying one out and putting it back. Oddly, they seemed to have been having a conversation. "It's like talking to a water wheel," Zevran complained under his breath as she approached them.

"See anything you like?" she asked.

"Besides you?" Zevran asked, and she gave him an unimpressed look. Unrepentant, he grinned and twirled a sword with a particularly decorated hilt. "The balance is off on this one. It is for display. But it is so pretty…"

"I am sure I could ask Bann Teagan to give us almost any weapon you please, as a gift," she said. "Sten, did you not say that you use a sword? You could have one."

"This is fine," Sten said, referring to his maul. "No sword here can match the one that is mine."

"Very well, but if you change your mind, only ask me."

She herself was curious about the extent of the armoury, and was reminded that her armour badly needed repairing. She had been wearing it almost all this time and had almost forgotten about the damage she'd sustained in the Circle Tower. She announced her intention to go get that done, and Zevran volunteered to go with her. Sten made no sign of agreement or disagreement, but followed them as they went down to the courtyard to find Owen. He was much more pleasant than the last time they talked, and set to work on her battered armour right away. She also saw Bodhan Feddic and his son Sandal, and Feddic declared his intention of coming with them on their further adventures. She did not gainsay him.

The rain had stopped for the moment, so clad now only in her shirt and pants, she went up to the battlements and looked over the lake and the little village. The elf and the Qunari followed her, and they made a slightly odd group.

"What a lovely little fishing village!" Zevran exclaimed. And then he ruined it by adding "You can almost smell the desperation of the local gentry, no?"

"All I smell is fish," she said disarmingly, and worked up the nerve to ask something she had been curious about since the day before. "Zevran, if you have been… an assassin all your life, you must have had some adventures, haven't you?"

He chuckled. "I am hardly an old man returned from across the sea, am I? Should I shake my fist at nearby children while I talk about the good old days?" His golden hair blew across his face in the light, blustery wind and he brushed it back.

He was trying to fluster her again, and it wouldn't work. She hoped. "You seem like you have had adventures."

"I suppose it depends on what you call an adventure," Zevran said, relenting. "Falling down a flight of stairs can be an adventure. Falling into someone's bed? Also an adventure." His accented words flowed forth like a gentle waterfall. "But I assume that you are referring to professional anecdotes. Well, let's see. There are a few that you might find amusing… Ah! My second mission ever for the Crows was a bit intriguing. I was sent to kill a mage who had been meddling in politics. As it turned out, the mage in question was a delightful young woman. Long, divine legs, if I recall correctly. I caught her in her carriage as she attempted to escape to the provinces. After I killed her guards, she got down on her knees and begged for her life – very eloquently, I might add. So I joined her in the carriage for the night and left the next morning."

A crease had appeared between Elizabeth's eyebrows, listening to this. "She didn't try to kill you at any point?"

"Oh yes, twice, actually. Then she decided to try to use me, instead. The woman actually convinced me to speak to the Crows on her behalf. What can I say? I was young and foolish at the time."

"How young?" Elizabeth asked curiously.

"Hmm, I'm not entirely sure. Sixteen, perhaps?" Elizabeth's eyes widened. She was only eighteen. How old was he now? And she had defeated him? "At any rate, when I was kissing her goodbye to return to Antiva City, she slipped on the threshold and fell backwards out of the carriage. Broke her neck. A shame, really, but at least it happened quickly."

Elizabeth gasped. "Did you push her?"

"I? No! It was purely an accident. Like I said, I was young and foolish and intended to do as she asked. Then I found out she had asked the driver to take her to Genellan instead. She planned to lose me in the provinces. I would have looked very foolish to the Crows. As it was, my master was very impressed that I had done such a fine job of making it look like an accident. The Circle of Magi was unaware of foul play, and everyone was happier all around."

"Very… interesting," Elizabeth said, trying to process it all.

"That was when I learned not to let a pretty face go to your head. Professionalism is key. My moral of the day."

"I… see," she said, wondering if she was supposed to take that to heart at all, in general, or in regards to him, or something else entirely. "You really do come from a very different world than I do."

"I would imagine so. And Sten over here comes from a very different world from either of us."

"That is very true," she said.

At that moment the clouds grew dark suddenly and began to rain again, and she hurried to shelter, finding a door that led back into the castle. The others followed her. "Tell me another story," she said as they walked down the narrow hall back to the main area of the castle.

He laughed. "Very well. Let me see… Ah! You will certainly like this one. It was a couple years later…"

.

It was an hour before the ritual was finished, but Connor was reunited with his mother and uncle safely. Morrigan tried to pretend to be annoyed by the whole thing, but Elizabeth didn't quite believe her.

Connor had not had food or drink since he had fled from him in the demon's clutches, so he was very weak and Isolde went to take care of him with broth and water. Teagan, meanwhile, laid out a feast for the mages and the companions, and they ate well for the first time Elizabeth could remember since she left Highever.

Afterwards, they were shown to guestrooms, but they briefly joined Elizabeth in hers to choose where they went next. It was pointed out that they were pretty much equally distant from both the Brecilian Forest and Orzammar, the homes of their remaining allies: the elves and the dwarves. In the end it was decided that they should go to the Forest to find the elves.

They set out early the next day, and the mages and Templars did as well. Two of the younger mages were late; a red-headed elf boy and a brown-haired human girl, but they showed up at the last moment and the group began the journey back to the Circle Tower. Elizabeth collected her mended armour, and then her group set out, taking the Imperial Highway south and then east around Lake Calenhad. When the highway turned north to aim for Denerim, they would leave it and continue east through the Southern Hills and into the Brecilian Forest.

She no longer asked Zevran to take point out of suspicion, and while she mostly walked with Leliana or Alistair, sometimes he would walk with her too. Sometimes he would walk with Morrigan and attempt to proposition her, an attempt that would inevitably end in failure, which Leliana found vastly amusing. Elizabeth tried not to be scandalized but it was difficult.

It was three days into their journey, over halfway back to Lothering, and he was walking with her again. She had heard so many tales of derring-do over the last few days that she was completely astonished that he was still alive. He must have the best luck in Thedas.

But now she was curious about something else. "You said that you didn't have much choice in joining the Crows."

He took the statement for the question it was and began readily enough. "Ah, to understand that you must understand that I was an orphan. My mother was a Dalish elf, and she fell in love with a city elf, a woodcutter, so she left her people to come to Antiva City. Not a good idea, it turned out, as there of course the woodcutter picked up some filthy disease and died before I was born. My mother was forced into prostitution to pay off his debts. Oldest tale in the book. But I never knew her; she died bearing me. My first victim, as it were." His voice trailed off for a moment, but then picked up again. "So I was raised in an Antivan whorehouse along with various other children in the same situation. The whores were good to us, as much as they could be. One of them told my fortune once, and apparently it said I would have a long life. She was rather startled by that." He chuckled, and she nodded with the shadow of a smile. From the stories he had, it was startling indeed.

"How did you know about your mother?"

"Why, the whores told me. And… I did have one thing of hers – a pair of gloves. Dalish gloves, I suppose. They were beautiful; fingerless, pale brown deer leather, with white and red embroidery on a pale blue panel on the back of the hand. I used to hide them under my bed and take them out to look at them every once in a while. We were not allowed personal possessions as Crow apprentices, but I managed to hide them for a couple years – until one day they were discovered, and I never saw them again." He shrugged. "It was a long time ago, though."

"Anyway, when I was about seven – it was not easy to keep track of time in years – the Crows came and bought me. I believe they paid three sovereigns for me."

"That's rather awful," she said.

"And why should it be? It was just the way it was. No use worrying about it now. My life may have had its ups and downs, but I like my job."

"You… like killing people?"

"Indeed. To hold another's life in my hand, it is so exciting. Don't you agree? You are a warrior, you do things similarly."

"I… enjoy the fight," she said cautiously. "Killing monsters is fine. I can take some satisfaction from that. Killing men, even wicked men…"

"Ah, you are young and inexperienced. But you like to get the blood pumping, eh?"

"I suppose," she acquiesced.

"You have become very tense," said he, with a shrewd look at her. "It is all this rough walking we are doing, no? When we camp for the night, would you like a massage?"

"A… massage?" she said warily. Was this a proposition?

"Yes, something to help you relax. How about it?"

"Well…"

"I learned many advanced techniques that one only learns growing up in an Antivan whorehouse." He was not leering at her, as she might have expected, only being matter-of-fact. It was disconcerting.

"I, ah, what are you suggesting?" She glared at him suspiciously.

He chuckled. "If you mean to ask if there might be more than a massage involved, let me just say you won't be disappointed in any of the techniques I've picked up over the years."

She decided that she needed somewhat more space between them and sidestepped a bit. "I… don't…"

"What is there to fear, dear Liz? If you're not of a mind, of course, it is no tragedy."

She snapped her head around to look at him. "What did you call me!?"

"Is that not your name?" He was definitely teasing her, amber eyes dancing and white teeth flashing in his tanned face.

"My name is Elizabeth," she said shortly. "And… I am not particularly interested in your offer. Why would you proposition me, anyway?"

He seemed surprised. "Why not? I fancy things that are dangerous and exciting."

"W-well, I may be a little bit dangerous," the trail of bodies she had built up in only the last few weeks spoke to that, "but I would think I am also incredibly boring. At least to someone like you."

"Someone like me, is it?" He didn't seem offended, only amused. "I tell you a few stories of my work, and you think I am too exciting for you?"

She raised her chin. She would not be mocked. "I'm not interested."

He backed off. "As you wish, my dear. But let me know if you change your mind."

She decided not to dignify that with an answer. Her heart was beating far too fast as it was and her armour was hot and heavy on her, despite the increasing coolness of the air the further south they went. She did not speak to him for the rest of the day.

.

That evening she gave Morrigan the black book she had picked up in the Circle Tower, and Morrigan's golden eyes lit up as Elizabeth had never seen them before. The young witch tried to hide her delight, but she was not successful at all. She took the book hurriedly from Elizabeth and retreated to her private corner of camp, saying that she had a lot of reading to do.

It was still early in the morning of the next day and they had just broken camp when Leliana returned from scouting. "There's some sort of commotion up ahead on the road. Men are threatening a traveler."

"Let us go see," Elizabeth said, and set off with Leliana. Alistair, Huan, and Wynne were ready and came with them.

The road bent here, dipping into a little dell, and they had a good view of the road while being less noticeable to anyone farther down. There was indeed a man there, in tattered clothes and an unkempt beard, and surrounding him were a half-dozen men in uniform.

"Those are Loghain's men!" cried Alistair. "Obviously they are up to no good."

"I think I agree," Leliana said. "One of them said 'traitor' just now. Shall we attack them?"

"Yes," said Elizabeth, but even as she said so, the captain of the soldiers stabbed the traveler in the gut.

Elizabeth crashed down the slope and into their flank, and the soldiers yelled as they realized they were under attack. She and Alistair cleared a path for Wynne to get to the mortally injured man. Between the four of them, and the later back-up of Morrigan, Sten, and Zevran, they made short work of Loghain's men.

Elizabeth knelt beside Wynne. "How is he?"

"Not good," Wynne said. "I cannot do much for him and he will die here. Do you know who he is?" Elizabeth shook her head. "This is Elric Maraigne, a member of King Cailan's honour guard and a close confidant of the king. I wonder what he is doing here?"

The man half-coughed and stirred. He groaned, and Elizabeth and Alistair helped him to partly sit up. "Th-thank you. I… wish I had met you before Loghain's men did. I tried to escape them, but… now I'm a dead man."

"I'm sorry for not getting here sooner," Elizabeth said. "Why did they attack you?"

"I remember your face," Maraigne said. "You were at Ostagar. You know what happened. It was either this, or die in some darkspawn's belly, or… or be hanged as a deserter."

Elizabeth blinked. "I don't understand. Wynne said you were in King Cailan's honour guard. Why would you desert?"

"I'm less of a deserter than Loghain is," Maraigne bit out, and coughed wetly. "I fled after he did… I abandoned my men, and they all died, and Cailan was with them. He was my king, my friend…" He groaned again. "Maker. All that time hiding in the woods, biding my time until it was safe to travel to Redcliffe, and I couldn't stop thinking about that one dark night… But… do you know the saddest part?"

"What is it?"

"Even if Loghain's men not turned their backs on us… there were too many darkspawn. Even Cailan, for all his bravado, knew there would be no victory at Ostagar."

Elizabeth traded glances with Wynne and Alistair. She certainly hadn't received that impression from the king at the time. But was it her imagination, or were there times when she remembered the king looking subdued?

"The king entrusted me with the key to the royal arms chest," Maraigne said, more weakly. "If anything were to happen to him, he said, it was vital that I deliver it to the Grey Wardens. I was going to Redcliffe to see if any survived, but you'll do that for me, won't you?"

"You are in luck," Alistair said. "We're Grey Wardens."

Maraigne's face cleared. "Oh, that's right. You were at the last strategy meeting. Well… here's the key." He fumbled around his neck and Elizabeth helped him remove the small golden key on a silver ring, hanging from his neck on a string. "And… if you see Cailan's body, would you give it honours? He was our king. He shouldn't be left to rot among the darkspawn's filth."

"I will do that," Elizabeth promised.

"I don't know what's in the chest," Maraigne said. "But it's important that you get it. You'll do that, won't you?"

"We will go there right away," Elizabeth said. "Rest easy, Ser Maraigne."

"Thank you," he said, and let his head fall back. After a moment, he stopped breathing.

They buried him under a cairn near the road.

"So, to Ostagar, hmm?" Leliana said. "I expect it will be a dreadful place now, but I am curious about it."

"We should go," Alistair said. "It might be something as important as the Grey Warden treaties. We can at least see that he is not dishonoured in death."

"We will go," Elizabeth said. "I made a promise."

.

Lothering was no more; a collection of burned foundations and charred bodies lying under the sky. They did not stop as they turned south along the highway.

There weren't many darkspawn on the road, but there were some, and they had to be careful. Alistair's sense of them helped, and Elizabeth tried to feel if she could sense them as well, but she wasn't yet sure whether she was sensing anything or simply pretending to herself that she could. It was also getting colder yet, and a day out from Ostagar they woke in the morning to a thin layer of snow on the ground.

Ostagar itself was blanketed in whiteness. There were fresh darkspawn tracks everywhere, and they tried to stay hidden as much as they could. Feddic found a hollow to hide his cart in, and he and Sandal came with them – it was safer than leaving them behind. Elizabeth did not say much, but Wynne and Alistar spoke frequently in low voices, remembering.

"It makes me feel old."

"And what exactly are you implying, Alistair?" Wynne said pertly.

"What? …What?" Alistair only slowly came out of his reverie and caught on. "No, I meant – I just thought-"

"You just thought I might be an expert on feeling old and could share some sage advice?"

"I just meant I was a different person, then. I believed in him, you know? That it would be this glorious battle that we'd win."

"I did too," Wynne said gently. "We were all a bit younger the last time we were here."

Alistair shook himself. "Well, not you. You've always been old."

Wynne shot him a sharp glance. "With lip like that, son, you'll be lucky if you live to be half my age."

"We have company," Sten said, hefting his maul. "They have seen us."

"We must not let them call allies," Alistair said. "Let's get them, quickly."

"I'm on it," said Morrigan, casting some sort of curse upon them that slowed their movements. Some of them, indeed, fell over. "They'll only be asleep for so long, so move quickly."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, and charged.

There was one tall darkspawn who had not fallen asleep, and he wielded a fearsome axe – but his armour appeared familiar. It was a Fereldan design. That shouldn't be possible, unless…

"It's wearing Cailan's armour!" cried Alistair, outraged, and engaged it in combat. It was unusually tall and strong, and Alistair might have been in over his head despite his rage had Sten not stepped in and dealt a crushing blow to the creature's legs.

Alistair fiercely stripped the golden breastplate from the now-headless hurlock. "I'm going to hold on to this. Bodhan, can I put it in your cart when we get back?"

"Certainly you can," Feddic replied, still looking around nervously.

"What's the matter, Alistair?" Wynne asked.

"I don't know, it just feels wrong to find this here. Pawed over by darkspawn, and thick with their rot…" Alistair washed his hands in snow and wiped them on his pants. "It was _his_."

"I know," Wynne said. "But he is not the first king to ever fall in battle or ever the first to fall to the darkspawn."

"Yes, but this wound cuts deeper."

"And it will bleed longer. Did you know Cailan well?"

"Did I have any sort of relationship with him, you mean?" Alistair asked, hoisting the empty armour onto his shoulders with some sturdy string.

"Yes. I wonder what he thought of you."

Alistair snorted. "I don't think he cared much about my existence. I didn't mean anything to him. Anyway, to answer your original question, no, we never spoke. Well, maybe once. Maric and Cailan had come to Redcliffe to visit the arl. I was very young then. We were introduced. I believe I said, "Greetings, your Highness." He said, "Ooh! Swords!" and ran off to the armory. So, yes, that was the extent of our relationship. We drifted apart after that. Very sad."

"I see," Wynne said, amused.

They entered the west end of what had once been the camp. Not much remained of it, but Elizabeth could still see where the tents had been, where the hospital had been, where the training grounds had been. There were darkspawn here, too, but they were defeated before they could raise an alarm, and the path to Cailan's tent was clear.

They kept to the walls as they approached. Everything was so very quiet. Snow was not actively falling, but it was ankle-deep, and Wynne and Alistair's quiet conversation sounded muffled.

Even the remains of the king's tent were sumptuous, but the only thing Elizabeth was interested in was the large gilded chest at the back. It had been knocked around, and clearly someone had attempted to hack into it with a sharp object, but it had withstood the abuse. Now if only the key still worked in the lock…

It did, and Elizabeth opened the chest to reveal a beautiful sword in a red sheath, and a small pile of letters.

"That is a sexy sword, and I must have it," Zevran commented.

"That is Maric's blade," Wynne chastised him. "It goes to Alistair by right." Zevran shrugged cheerfully and stood back.

"I guess," Alistair said without enthusiasm. "What are the letters?"

Elizabeth felt awkward about opening secret correspondence to her king, but apparently he had intended that she and Alistair receive it, so she obediently removed an envelope and pulled a letter from it. She read it silently, then passed it to Alistair.

Alistair apparently did not share her sense of discretion, because he began to read aloud: "To his Majesty, King Cailan of Ferelden: My Warden-Commander assures me that we face a Blight. This thing threatens us both, and we must work together to fight it, lest it devour all. Our two nations have not had a happy history, but that is all it is: history. It is the future that is at stake now. Let us put aside our fathers' disagreements so that we may secure a future for both our countries. My Chevaliers stand ready and will accompany the Grey Wardens of Orlais to Ferelden. At your word the might of Orlais will march to reinforce the Ferelden forces. Sincerely, Empress Celene the First."

"That much we knew already," Wynne said. "Cailan and Loghain were at loggerheads all week, and probably since before that, over whether or not to involve the Orlesians."

Elizabeth was already reading a second letter. "Alistair… this one… is from Arl Eamon."

"By your face, it's a disturbing one," Alistair said, and took it from her, trading for the first one that he still carried. "Your Majesty, my men will arrive as soon as possible to bolster your forces. Maker willing, this Blight will be ended before it has begun. Cailan, I beseech you, as your uncle, not to join the Grey Wardens on the Field. You cannot afford to take this risk. Ferelden cannot afford it. Let me remind you again that you do not have an heir. Your death – and it pains me even to think of it – would plunge Ferelden into chaos."

"And yes, perhaps when this is over you will allow me to bring up the subject of your heir. While a son from both the Theirin and Mac Tir lines would unite Ferelden like no other, we must accept that perhaps this can never be. The queen approaches her thirtieth year and her ability to give you a child lessens with each passing month. I submit to you again that it might be time to put Anora aside. We parted harshly the last time I spoke of this, but it has been a full year since then and nothing has changed. Please, nephew, consider my words, and Andraste's grace be with you." Alistair let his hands fall to his side with a grimace that said 'I'm not touching that with a ten-foot pole' as he handed the letter back to Elizabeth.

"That's rather insulting to Queen Anora," Leliana said. "It's not true that women are infertile after thirty. I can imagine Cailan was upset with his uncle for saying such things."

"My mother had me only shortly after she turned thirty," Elizabeth said. "Is it not true? I thought it was."

"No indeed," Leliana said. "As many Orlesian noblewomen have discovered over the centuries to their chagrin."

Elizabeth looked at the last letter, which appeared to have been crumpled and then uncrumpled at some point, and blushed before passing it to Alistair, who read: "Cailan; the visit to Ferelden will be postponed indefinitely, due to the darkspawn problem. You understand, of course? The darkspawn have odd timing, don't they? Let us deal with them first. Once that is done we can further discuss a permanent alliance between Orlais and Ferelden." He blinked. "I don't get it. Was Cailan going to divorce Anora after all and marry Celene? How old is _she_? How well did they know each other, were they visiting before, or was it just letters, or what? Loghain would be especially angry to hear this. I wonder if he knew."

"It's a moot point now," sighed Wynne. "She was only waiting for his response to assist us."

"A response that will never come now," Alistair said.

"Never is a long time, Alistair," Wynne said. "Give it time and let cooler heads prevail. There will be peace between us yet."

"I hope you live to see it, Wynne."

"And I hope the darkspawn don't."

"We haven't seen Cailan's body yet, or the rest of his armour," Elizabeth said. "We should continue."

"I do see the body of a man," Zevran said, pointing to the bridge. "Could that be him?"

They walked in that direction, and when they were close enough to see, Elizabeth covered her mouth in horror. King Cailan had been stripped naked and crucified with spears and arrows on a hideous darkspawn sculpture set up exactly halfway across the bridge. The dead king faced south, towards the enemy he had failed to conquer, and his head was slumped on his breast. Despite his wounds and the length of time he had been exposed to the elements, his body was surprisingly intact, and Elizabeth could see a resemblance to Alistair, now that she knew to look for it. She still remembered her brief meeting with him, how kindly he had spoken to her, how boyish and full of hope he had seemed, how he seemed to spread hope to everyone around him – when he wasn't exasperating them, of course.

"Ugh, they left him here to rot! We need to do something," Alistair said, but he was interrupted.

They heard the scream of darkspawn from the eastern side of the camp and the Tower of Ishal, and Alistair knelt quickly before his half-brother's body. "Forgive us, my king. When we have driven the darkspawn from their holes and bought ourselves some time, we shall return to see you to the Maker."

"My, my," Morrigan said. "The darkspawn have been learning some tricks." Elizabeth followed where she pointed to see a genlock waving its arms around. A moment later, corpses rose from the ground and came trudging towards them.

"Aren't necromancers popular this month?" Alistair quipped before running off to fight.

"This month?" Zevran asked.

"We've faced several sets of undead since we began this journey," Leliana told him. "I suppose there is no shortage of bodies, but it is distressing."

"Hey!" Alistair cried. "That genlock has Cailan's helmet!" But the necromancer genlock was already fleeing in the direction of the Tower of Ishal.

"We'd better recover it, then," Wynne said.

"Yes, let's recover some overly decorated pieces of metal because of sentiment," Morrigan snarked, casting a lightning bolt that felled three zombies.

"I don't suppose you'd understand," Alistair sighed. "It has to be done!"

"I still think the dog is smarter than you are," Morrigan muttered. Alistair didn't hear her.

They fought through the undead and ran in the direction of the Tower of Ishal. The genlock was not too far ahead, but he was moving too fast for Leliana to get a fix on him with an arrow or for Morrigan to pinpoint him with a curse.

"Where's he going?" Wynne wondered. "Surely not up the tower. He'll be trapped up there. Unless he has reinforcements."

But the genlock showed no interest in the stairs. Instead, he rounded a corner in the room before the stairs, and by the time they burst into that room, he appeared to have vanished.

There was a massive hole in the floor, a hole that led into a dark, foul-smelling tunnel.

"Ugh," said Alistair. "I don't even want to imagine where that leads. I hope it doesn't go to the Deep Roads or we'll be sunk."

"Is that literally you're meaning?" Morrigan asked tartly. "If you want that helmet, you'll have to follow."

"I know, and I'm going to. But… it looks so icky."

Elizabeth did not linger. "Bodhan, you brought lamps, did you not?"

"I have a couple, my lady. One moment, please."

It was odd, Elizabeth thought, that none of them questioned her leadership. Here she was, diving into a hole in the ground that could lead into any number of traps, and she was leading them straight into it.

The tunnel was surprisingly large and clear, once they had skidded down the steep slope to the bottom. It continued to wind down and around, opening occasionally into a larger area. Huan began to growl in one of these areas, and his caution was rewarded with a number of giant spiders as tall as Elizabeth's knee. They were horrifying, but once Sten had kicked a number to pieces and Morrigan set a few on fire, they continued.

To her surprise, the tunnel exited at the foot of the cliff that Ostagar was built on. A chill unrelated to the snow settled into her bones as she realized that she was now standing on the battlefield where Cailan had died. Where Duncan had died. Where everyone, really, had died.

The others were silent as well, as they picked their way over half-eaten decaying bodies of both humans and darkspawn. The wind blew through the narrow valley, whistling slightly. Elizabeth looked to the left to see the endless black trees of the Korcari Wilds. Somewhere out there, her brother lay, and she would never find him.

A pitter-patter of footsteps made them all tense and reach for their weapons, and they saw the genlock necromancer again, hurrying towards the remains of the battlefield.

"Leliana, stop him before he finishes casting his spell," Elizabeth said.

"Not sure I can," Leliana said, concentrating on her aim. He was standing still for once, but Leliana's first arrow would only strike him by the time he finished his spell, and he had the helmet to protect him as well. He was out of range of Morrigan and Wynne's spells, although Morrigan had already begun to run forward, Huan with her.

The genlock finished his spell, and a huge mass of snow in the middle of the field began to shift. Elizabeth's eyes grew wide as it became apparent that a great ogre had been resurrected. There were many more human-sized undead as well, but this was a monster to be feared.

"That ogre," Alistair said. "That's- those are Duncan's weapons embedded in it. Duncan killed that thing. He- his body must be around here somewhere!"

"Let's focus on killing the ogre and the necromancer first, yes?" Zevran said, protecting Elizabeth's flank from undead as they waded through the fray towards the necromancer. Leliana was filling the ogre full of arrows, but it didn't seem to notice. It probably felt less pain than a living ogre, and those were already tough.

Morrigan was finally in a position to target the genlock necromancer, and she shot at him a bolt of ice that must have been even more effective than usual in the cold weather. Sten got to the necromancer before Elizabeth could, and with a mighty swing of his maul the necromancer was shattered.

She turned back to the ogre. It showed no signs of slowing down even though the one who raised it was dead. Huan had sprung onto its back and was worrying its head, but it didn't even seem to notice. Pieces of it were falling off, or hacked off by their weapons, and it didn't seem to notice. All it wanted to do was destroy everything around it, living or undead. Elizabeth bashed several shambling corpses into its range with her shield just to have it aid them unwittingly.

In this fight, the mages were probably their best allies, but even they were having trouble. Wynne's rock projectiles barely caused it pause, and while Morrigan managed to freeze its feet to the ground, it ignored her lightning.

"Heh, watch this!" Zevran cried, and before she could react, bounded up, off Sten's shoulder, and into the ogre's face. Elizabeth gasped, but Zevran had stabbed it in the throat and eye, and it was overbalancing backwards. It collapsed with an earth-shaking thud, and reached up to crush the elf, but Zevran yanked his weapons free and stabbed again, and the ogre's hand fell to the ground and it lay still.

Zevran pulled his daggers free and jumped backwards lightly off the massive corpse, smiling. He turned towards Elizabeth as if looking for recognition, but she glared at him. "Zevran, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"Were you afraid for me, my dear? I knew what I was doing."

She huffed and wiped her sword before sheathing it. "I hope so." She heard him chuckle as she went over to the corpse to tug at Duncan's weapons.

Alistair picked up the golden helmet Cailan had worn to battle, banging the ice off of it, and nearby he found a stash that had the arm and leg pieces as well. "I think I found everything." Elizabeth handed him Duncan's sword and dagger, and he juggled a few things in order to accept them, which he did gratefully.

Wynne sighed heavily. "It has been a long day. By the lines around your eyes, I dare say that you look as old as I."

Alistair smiled faintly, but it seemed that he was lighter of spirit now that he had accomplished his goal. "And if I may say so, milady, you appear to be getting younger by the day."

Wynne turned a snort into a chuckle. "If only that were so. But come, we must see Cailan off. Will you dress him in his armour, or will you keep it?"

Alistair hesitated. "I think he should have it. He has nothing right now. And I already have my gear. He deserves what little honour we can afford to grant him."

"I think that is a fine plan." He looked around a few minutes more, but either Duncan's body was not there, or it was disfigured beyond recognition, and he followed Elizabeth's group shortly.

They returned to Cailan, not using the cave this time, and build a small support out of wood from the broken ballistas on the bridge so that Alistair could lift down his brother.

He had a queasy look on his face as he came down. "I think his back was broken." Elizabeth came to help him and even though the body was stiff with frost, she could tell that things weren't quite connected right.

The poor man, she thought. A broken back seemed a horrible way to go. Perhaps he had been crushed by the ogre.

Zevran, Leliana, and Wynne built a pyre out of more pieces of ballista, and Alistair and Elizabeth laid him gently on it and dressed him in his armour. "He was a good man who hoped too much and died too young," Alistair said quietly. "Ferelden will miss him greatly. Already misses him greatly. He always thought he'd go out as a hero… wind in his hair, eyes blazing… I'm sure he did."

"I'm sure he did," Elizabeth echoed. They laid Cailan's helmet beside him instead of placing it on his head and stood back. Alistair took one of their dying torches and lit the pyre.

The wood was cold and damp and did not want to burn, but eventually it got going.

Elizabeth did not stay long. She could not bear it.

.

Author's note: And our male lead deigns to show up! Yayyyyyyy. Also Wikipedia says it takes about 6 hours for a body to burn.


	7. The Brecilian Forest

The Brecilian Forest

.

"I killed about eleven of her guards personally before I was knocked out a window. I landed in the river and nearly drowned, but then I was fished out by some urchins – who robbed me blind, right down to my boots. And that was my part in history."

"I will say it again," Elizabeth said. "The Maker clearly does not want you home yet."

Zevran smirked wickedly. "And I thank Him for it every chance I get. For instance, how should I have expected to be defeated by a beautiful Grey Warden, one who then spares my life?"

"You… you keep calling me beautiful," she objected.

"I say you are beautiful because it is true," he said, as if any fool should have realized that. "Should I not?"

She hesitated. It was inappropriate, and the way he said it so casually to every woman made it worth less than it might have otherwise, but… she liked it, and he did seem sincere… but… "You should not."

"As you wish," he said, with a gleam in his eye that said he was most certainly not going to listen to her – at least not for long.

She would have rolled her eyes if not for the small confusing part of her that was pleased by his attention.

She told that part of her to silence itself. It had no part in her mission. She might trust him more as an ally than she had when she first met him almost two weeks ago, she might even be beginning to like him, with his wit and his laughter and his relaxed attitude – too relaxed, perhaps – but that didn't mean that she was attracted to him.

Besides, not an hour later, Wynne attempted to lecture him on the moral failings of being an assassin and what followed left Elizabeth wide-eyed and blushing with astonishment.

"You must have wished to leave the Crows because you know murder is wrong," was how she began.

"Yes, that is exactly it," Zevran agreed instantly with a smile.

"Joke if you wish, but I have the feeling that deep down you regret the life you have lived," Wynne said.

"It's true. I regret it all."

Wynne sighed with exasperation. "Must you be such a child? Are you incapable of having a serious conversation?"

"I know," he said with an overly mournful face. "I am terrible and it makes me sad. May I lay my head on your bosom? I wish to cry."

Wynne took a pair of smart steps away from him. "You can cry well away from my bosom, I am sure."

But Zevran was not yet done. With wide, soulful eyes, and trembling lip, he clasped his hands in Wynne's direction. "Did I tell you I was an orphan? I never knew my mother."

"Egad," Wynne exclaimed. "I give up." And she went to the other end of the group, which was astounding, as that meant she joined Morrigan.

.

They had left Ostagar as soon as Cailan's pyre had begun to die down, heading back north and to their original plan. They were going to be a week later than their earlier plan, but they would have to make do. At the moment they had just left the road and were heading east through the Southron Hills, going by faint paths and small roads. Not many people lived this close to the Brecilian Forest. Teyrn Loghain's teyrnir, Gwaren, was indeed in the south end of the forest on the eastern coast, but even the roads to Gwaren were rough and provincial. Most people traveled between the two by ship.

Alistair was now armed with Duncan's sword and dagger, and had been trying to convince Leliana to paint the Grey Warden heraldry onto his shield. The sword of King Maric had been stowed in Bodhan's cart; when they got to Denerim they would try to give it to Queen Anora – if they found an opportunity. It would probably be difficult.

More difficult at the moment was finding the elves. Days passed, and as they wandered deeper into the wood, they found no trace of them. Zevran wasn't much help – he had lived with a Dalish tribe in Antiva for a few months, but he had no insight into the habits of Fereldan Dalish.

"I hope they're here," Alistair said to her one night. "I know the Dalish are secluded and don't like outsiders, but we haven't seen so much as a hair of them."

"They're probably watching you right now," Morrigan said ominously, having deigned to join them for dinner. She smiled as Alistair shot her a side-long glance of irritation.

"I'm sure they must be here," Elizabeth said. "They're undoubtedly avoiding the Blight as much as possible, however." Privately, she resolved to search for only a couple of days, and to cut their losses and return to Denerim for supplies if the elves were not to be found.

"Patience," Wynne said. "Diligence will solve this puzzle for us."

There was a startled noise from Leliana, who was on watch, suddenly cut off. The rest of them scrambled for their weapons. It was dark, and even darker under the trees, but she could swear she saw huge things moving in the direction Leliana had cried out from. She charged and prayed that she wouldn't trip.

Something massive caught her in the stomach, and she went flying, landing in a thicket of brambles. They seemed to close on her, catching her arms and legs in their tough, rattling coils. After a moment she realized that they _were_ closing on her, and she screamed, lashing out with her sword, which only made them close on her faster.

"Elizabeth!" she heard Alistair shout, and peculiar sounds like the creaking of trees but in fast motion, and almost a sound of chopping wood. Then Morrigan cast a fire spell and Elizabeth stared in disbelief, for there was a tree attacking them. One of its branches was on fire, but it seemed to take no notice of that, nor of Alistair valiantly cutting at its trunk.

Sten was knee-deep in brambles on the other side of the small clearing, and Elizabeth could see a splash of red hair behind him. The brambles around her were giving way on one side, and suddenly she slid and tumbled into Zevran's arms, scratched and torn, but free.

"How do you fight a tree!?" Alistair wanted to know, and took a blow to the face that sent him flat on his back. Elizabeth ran forward and grounded herself in front of him protectively.

The tree flailed, but it did not seem to be because of anything they had done. It creaked and groaned and eventually fell backwards. After a protracted period of thrashing, it lay still.

From out of the darkness of the forest came a commanding voice. "Stay right there, shems."

"Ooh! Elves!" Alistair chirped, joining her at her shoulder. "How lucky is that?" Farther back, Sten was helping Leliana out of the thornbush she had been trapped in, and the archer smiled fondly at the Qunari.

"We've been watching you for days," came the tart response. "You were just stupid enough to annoy a wild sylvan that would kill all of us together if we let it."

Shem. Elizabeth had heard the word before. Once, when she was small, she had wandered alone into the Highever alienage by accident, and several children who at that time were bigger than her taunted her, pushing her into puddles and telling her "Go home, shem!" She had been terrified, but Hahren Sarethia had found her and escorted her back to a city guard who had taken her home.

So these elves were not friendly. She had suspected as much. She squared her shoulders and took a small step forward. "I am a Grey Warden. I seek an audience with your Hahren."

A derisive snort was her only answer. "Go home, shem. Our _Keeper_ will have nothing to do with the likes of you."

Well, she learned something today. "It concerns the Blight and the fate of all Ferelden! At least let me speak to the Keeper. I will submit to whatever you wish."

There was a thoughtful pause. "You would come alone and unarmed?"

Elizabeth hesitated in her turn.

"Don't do that, that's silly," Alistair said. "Let me come with you, at least."

"You're the only other Grey Warden," she said. "If something were to happen, you must carry on." She turned to the forest. "I would come unarmed, and I would come alone, but I would like to take my friend Leliana as well."

"I can do that," Leliana said cheerfully. "Unarmed as well, right?"

The darkness was silent. "We'll come for you tomorrow, shems. Stay in your camp for the night. Nothing else will bother you if you don't bother it." Elizabeth heard no more, and could not be sure whether they had gone or not.

"I don't like you going al- not alone, but… without all of us," Alistair said. "And unarmed? What if they decide they don't like you?"

"The Dalish don't like humans. That doesn't mean they're savages," Elizabeth said sharply. "I am sure they will not kill me without due reason. For now… Please give Leliana the proper treaty. And then let us rest. It will be a long day tomorrow, I'm sure."

.

It was a cold, grey morning when Elizabeth and Leliana set out. With only their armour and the treaty, they went to the edge of camp and waited. Elizabeth tried not to fiddle with her armour. It had become broken again in the fight with the tree, but there was no metalsmith out here to fix it. She would have to survive until she made it to Denerim.

An elf-woman in scanty leather armour and carrying a large bow appeared out of the forest. She said something in elvish that did not sound very welcoming, and then said "Follow me". She said nothing else during their whole march.

It was three hours before they reached something that resembled a camp. A number of things that looked like wagons but… were not, were clustered among the trees near a river. White deer with immensely long, ornate antlers looked at them placidly. The dozens of elves she could see – and she was sure there were many more she could not – stared at her less placidly. Their expressions ranged from curiosity to outright hostility, and she raised her chin unconsciously, her heart beating a little faster than normal. Leliana simply smiled, but there was a wary shadow to her smile that wasn't there normally.

One thing she noticed was that almost every elf, except for the children, had ornate tattoos on their faces. They were different from Zevran's tattoo, and she wondered why.

Their guide led them to an elf with a bald head and unreadable dark eyes. "Here they are, Zathrian."

"Thank you, Mithra." The elf dismissed the guide and turned to them. "Grey Warden Elizabeth and Leliana, I am told your names are. Welcome to our camp. We are the Dalish Elves of the Brecilian Forest, and I am their Keeper, Zathrian."

Elizabeth bowed. "I thank you for your gracious greeting, Lord Zathrian."

"A Keeper is no lord," Zathrian corrected her. "However, like your human lords, I have many things to attend to. For what reason have you come?"

He surely knew, Elizabeth thought, but gestured for Leliana to hand her the treaty. It gave her a chance to use the speech she had been preparing all night. "I am sure you are aware of the Blight afflicting Ferelden, Keeper Zathrian. A human army was destroyed at Ostagar along with our king, and now as one of Ferelden's last two Wardens I seek allies that we may have even a chance at defeating the darkspawn. I have here a treaty between the Fereldan Wardens and the Dalish elves, promising to give aid in the event of a Blight. Would you read it?"

Zathrian took the old scroll silently and read it. Then he handed it back to her. "I am afraid that I cannot currently honour this treaty. You would have come to the right place – the Brecilian Forest is home to many Dalish tribes, and I know them all – but we have our own problems and cannot spare you a fighting force."

Elizabeth's heart sank coldly into her belly. "Is there a way I may assist you, to sufficiently resolve your problems that you would fight with me?"

A couple elves nearby laughed derisively, but Zathrian's face remained impassive. "I do not think so. However, you may speak to my First and if she chooses to inform you of our problems, I will allow you to help as you may."

Elizabeth bowed, clearly dismissed. "Thank you, Keeper. Where may I find your First?"

"Here I am," said a much younger elf woman with pale brown hair. "My name is Lanaya. Come with me and we will speak more." Elizabeth bowed again and followed her.

Lanaya was rather like Leliana, Elizabeth observed. She was cheerful and friendly, and happy to teach Elizabeth some of the things she sorely felt herself lacking in. Elizabeth learned that First meant "first apprentice", or successor, and that there were Hahren in the Dalish elves but they were not the leaders of their people like they were in the cities. Lanaya was also willing to talk about herself, and told Elizabeth of her childhood living with humans, her brief period of slavery to bandits, and how Zathrian himself had rescued her and trained her to be his First, despite the initial opposition of the clan.

More importantly, she told Elizabeth about the problems the Dalish were facing in the Brecilian Forest. A werewolf tribe had sprung up from somewhere, and was continually harassing them, occasionally infecting their warriors who would then either turn or die, in great pain either way. Not even the elves could figure out where they were coming from or why they were attacking them.

When Elizabeth volunteered to help fight the werewolves, Lanaya shook her head violently. "Absolutely not. Last night when Mithra came to tell us you wished to see Zathrian, she said that you were da'lenen, like infants in the forest. You would be slaughtered."

Elizabeth felt her heart sink again. "I don't suppose it would be possible to teach me enough to survive quickly enough that I could be of service to you."

"I don't think so," Lanaya said. "We will fight this enemy ourselves. You should get back to saving Ferelden without worrying about us."

One thing Elizabeth disliked was being told what she should be doing. "I hear your words but I am afraid I will have to be stubborn. My companions and I are formidable fighters and we do not ask for babysitting. Only enough guidance that we… not blunder into any more walking trees."

"Sylvans are difficult to spot if you don't know how," Lanaya said, and sat back, regarding Elizabeth with an appraising eye. "Who are your companions?"

"Leliana is an excellent archer and scout, although her primary occupation is that of a bard," Elizabeth said. "Alistair is my fellow Grey Warden, and he is a lot like me in his fighting style. Sten is a strong Qunari, and I believe from hints he has dropped that he comes from a wilder land than Ferelden. Morrigan is a powerful mage, and she has lived her entire life in the Korcari Wilds, so she will be fine here, I am sure. Wynne is a senior enchanter from the Circle Tower, and she knows many protective enchantments. I also have a mabari who is devoted to me, and a former Antivan Crow assassin joined us recently who has some experience with the Antivan Dalish. There are two other members of our group, a pair of dwarf merchants whom I would not risk in the forest. They, perhaps, I would ask your leave to stay in camp under your protection."

"Perhaps you are not such infants as Mithra thought," Lanaya said, smiling. "I would not want to risk the lives of both Ferelden's last Grey Wardens, though, so while I will grant you permission to join our camp, you will not be venturing deep into the forest on your own until I am sure you can fend for yourselves."

"How long will that be?" Elizabeth asked hopefully.

"We leave this place in a week," Lanaya said. "You will have to be ready by then."

Elizabeth clenched her fist. "I will not let you down."

"You don't have to say that," Lanaya said kindly. "You're very young, and you have high ideals, and I appreciate your willingness to help, especially for a human. However, this is a very big problem, and I don't want you to feel bad if your efforts come to nothing. And I really don't want you to get killed trying to help us."

Elizabeth felt a mild sting of irritation; she felt Lanaya was being patronizing without intending to be. But she meant well, and Lanaya meant well, and there was nothing to be gained by being stubborn here, so she nodded.

Their companions were sent for, and by the end of the day they had joined the Dalish camp. Elizabeth and Leliana had spent the afternoon with the clan storyteller, an elf named Sarel. He had not wanted to speak to them, but Lanaya had insisted, and Elizabeth learned more about elvish history, lore, and culture in three hours than she had ever thought she would learn in a lifetime.

She learned about Zathrian, too. His clan looked up to him, and he was old – very old, older than most elves. She knew that in the old days, when the Dalish still lived in lands they called their own, that they had longer lives than humans. Now Hahren Sarel told her of Arlathan, the ancient realm in which the elves lived forever, long slow lives where a conversation could take an entire year and where an elf who had already lived long would enter a sleep like death, called Uthenera, but waken again a century later and continue his life as if nothing had happened. But Zathrian did not seem any different from his clan except for his long life. He was respected as a wise leader who had brought them through many times of trouble, ever since their grandparents and _their_ grandparents were children.

The next three days were a whirlwind. Lanaya was also busy with clan affairs, so she left Elizabeth and such of her companions as were deemed "infants" in the care of an older hunter named Athras. They did not go any deeper into the forest, but wandered on the western side, learning about the plants and animals that lived there, what sort of tracks they left, even what sorts of scents to smell for. Elizabeth was pretty rubbish at scents, but Alistair was worse than her at everything – something she should not have taken comfort in, but she did anyway. Leliana did fairly well at spotting tracks, so well that Elizabeth wondered if she'd had experience somehow. Wynne did not do as well, although she was very good at identifying plants – Elizabeth assumed she had studied them in the Circle Tower's library. Zevran joined them, pronouncing himself rusty, but he too was much better than the rest of them, and mostly proved himself to be an annoyance to Wynne. Athras showed formidable patience with their chatter.

She learned a bit about him, too. Athras had lost his wife, Danyla, in the werewolf attack. She had also been a hunter, and he now grieved desperately for her. He wanted to go find her body, but Zathrian had forbade any of the elves from going into the deep woods alone for fear of more attacks.

The hunter also gave them advice for defending themselves against various forest creatures, especially bears and wolves, and told them to leave any grave markers or barrows alone for fear of waking lost, hate-filled souls. And he told them what sort of plants they could use as resources, from canavaris, otherwise known as elfroot, for poultices to the fabled ironbark that was as strong as steel without half the weight.

Elizabeth also went all over camp with Lanaya on the afternoon of the first day. She saw the horrible plight of the wounded and afflicted warriors and hunters, feverish and moaning, some of them thrashing and requiring restraints, some of them lying as if already dead. She did not see any of them turn, something which she was shamefully thankful for.

She also met the keeper of the halla, the white deer, Elora, and the clan's craftsmaster, Varathorn. Varathorn allowed himself to be persuaded to accept her coin in exchange for his goods, since she had nothing to barter with. She was looking curiously through the things he offered when suddenly her eyes went wide.

In a pile of other leather things, were were a pair of pale-brown, fingerless gloves with white and red embroidery. There wasn't any blue on them, but it was so close… She spoke to Varathorn with excitement and bought them, hiding them in her pack before any of her companions saw that she had bought them.

Many of the elves looked at her with suspicion, but she tried to be helpful and polite, and did what small tasks she could for them, and gradually the looks grew less forceful, although they did not go away entirely. She didn't expect them to, and even that little bit of acceptance she took as a victory.

.

"Zevran, why are your tattoos different from the tattoos of the people here? Is it because you are from Antiva?" It was dinnertime on the third day and she had finally got around to venting her curiosity.

Zevran smiled tolerantly at her. "Yes and no, my dear Liz. My tattoos are not of Dalish origin. I went and acquired these myself… most of them. Some of them are sacred to the Crows and I am not allowed to tell you what they mean. Others accentuate the lines of the body, its curves and musculature. One moment." Without even asking her leave, he reaching up and stripped off his shirt, revealing a number of other tattoos on his torso, front and back. Elizabeth ducked her head in embarrassment, forgetting even to tell him not to call her Liz, but Leliana stared frankly.

"It reminds me of how we sometimes paint our faces in Orlais," she said.

"But these are not paint, and I have more of them," Zevran said, leaning towards her with his chin in his hand. "Would you like to see?" The firelight played across his chest and belly, making the smooth, curved black lines there appear to dance.

"Thank you, but I am fine," Leliana said.

"Oh yes, I've heard of these," Alistair said. "Don't you get them by putting ink under your skin with needles, or something?"

"A great many needles, it is true."

"Doesn't that hurt?"

"Oh, yes, yes. But it is not so bad, in truth. If you like, I could give you one. I learned a bit of the art myself in Antiva."

"Er, no. No thank you," Alistair said, looking intrigued and queasy at the same time.

"Come now, it would be a tremendous hit with the ladies. It doesn't have to be large. Perhaps the symbol of the Grey Wardens, like on your shield? Something manly! My needles are just in my pack."

Alistair was definitely looking queasy now. "N-no thanks. I was just wondering."

"Let me know if ever you change your mind."

"Will do." Alistair actually moved to sit closer to Sten, who was studiously ignoring everything.

Zevran turned back to Elizabeth, apparently completely unaware of the fact that he was distractingly half-naked on a chilly night. "To answer your original question, the Dalish elves practice a form of tattoos known as Vallaslin, or blood-writing. It is a sort of combination of coming-of-age ritual and religious practice to receive these tattoos. I was of about the right age to receive such tattoos during my time with the Antivan Dalish, but by then I had already acquired these," he gestured to his face, "and it would have looked odd to work around them. And besides, I am not really a Dalish elf. I much prefer the city, myself."

"I see," Elizabeth said, trying not to stare and knowing that she was both failing and blushing, to her annoyance. Truth be told, she had considered some of the Dalish designs pretty and had wondered if it was possible to get something like that – but if they had special meanings for the elves, then that was a bad idea.

He smiled and stretched languidly before moving away to put his shirt on again and retire to bed.

On the fourth day, they ventured out into the forest on their own for the first time. Zathrian actually came to speak to them. "I believe the cause of this curse is an ancient wolf named Witherfang. Watch for the white wolves, for they are Witherfang's guards and spies. If by chance you manage to find and kill Witherfang, bring me his heart and I will be able to restore my people and defeat the werewolves."

Elizabeth was a bit nervous, although she had her friends with her. The things she had been told about the forest were unsettling, and all her training had given her was mostly the knowledge that she wasn't ready to be here. Huan stayed close by her side protectively.

Wynne accidentally broke the tension at midday, when they paused for a meal. "So, Zevran, have you changed your mind yet? Would you like to speak seriously?"

Completely deadpan, Zevran turned to her and said: "Of your bosom? As you wish."

"No, I do not wish to talk about my bosom," Wynne said, frowning in exasperation.

"But it is a marvelous bosom," Zevran said slyly. "I have seen women half your age who have not held up half so well. Perhaps it is a magical bosom?"

Wynne made as if to cross her arms over her chest, then stopped in a half-hearted attempt not to let Zevran get to her. "Stop talking about my bosom!"

"But I thought you wished to speak seriously," Zevran said, feigning innocence.

"I did. I thought, however foolishly, that you might like to talk to me of your past."

"We could do that. There have been many bosoms in my past, though only few as fine as yours." Zevran grinned wickedly.

"Egad." Wynne stood up and moved off.

They traveled again in silence for about an hour before Leliana drew their attention.

"Here, look at this," she said. "Isn't this what Athras told us about?"

Wynne came to look at it. "It's a fallen tree covered in… goodness, I do believe you are right. Ironbark!"

"Athras said it was rare," Elizabeth said. "We should take some back for them." The tree was completely dead, and the bark on the sunward side was a slightly blueish tint, just as Athras described. But how would they remove it if it was stronger than steel?

It turned out that removing the bark from the dead tree was simple enough; it was how to separate it into manageable pieces that was the difficult part. Elizabeth and Alistair struggled with it for a while, with Huan attempting to help, before Sten pushed them out of the way and ripped off a piece with brute strength. Elizabeth thanked him breathlessly and Alistair slung it on his back under his shield.

And then they were attacked by sylvans.

.

They returned without seeing wolves that day, but in agreement that they should go farther into the forest the next day, daring to stay out the night and keep going on the second day. They did not have much time left before the elves would move.

Elizabeth brought the ironbark to Varathorn, who was impressed with their find and offered to make them something from it. The others declined the offer and moved off in search of food, but Elizabeth lingered. "I don't know if it's possible, but… my armour needs repair," she began.

Varathorn held up his hand. "There is more than enough here to shape you a breastplate and a backplate. It will take me a couple days but it will be ready before you leave us."

Elizabeth bowed. "I am in your debt."

"A find of ironwood is not a light find," Varathorn said. "You owe me no debt for this."

She thanked him again anyway and returned to her friends.

She then sought out Zevran, intending to give him her find from the other day. But it seemed he had been looking for her as well, and they met alone under a pine tree. "My beautiful Liz!"

"Don't call me Liz," she said, already annoyed. "Zevran…"

"I had a question for you," he said, and she blinked.

"What is it?"

"How well-versed in poetry are you? Antivan poetry, specifically."

She blinked again, completely blindsided. "Er, not at all, actually. Why?" Her heart began to beat faster. This wasn't another one of his…

"I wanted to prepare you for this one. It was told to me, if I remember correctly, by a rather wealthy target of mine. Let me see… 'The symphony I see in thee, it whispers songs to me. Songs of hot breath upon my neck, songs of soft sighs by my head. Songs of nails upon my back, songs of thee come to my bed.'" His voice had dropped seductively, and he had a half-lidded smile on his face.

Elizabeth clapped both hands over her face, internally screaming, red as a tomato. "W-w-what was that?!" The worst part was, her body had begun to throb and her heart was pounding like a drum.

Zevran grinned unrepentantly. "I did warn you it was bad, even in translation. I myself can hardly believe she thought that would convince me to spare her. I had sex with her, of course, it goes without saying. But, like I said before, professionalism is key. She had to die. Still, there are worse ways to spend one's last hours. In any case, the poem amused me, and I've always remembered it."

"You didn't warn me at all! Why on earth would you tell me this?"

"I thought you might be cheered up by some naughty poetry. You seemed so disappointed today, and looked so unhappy. Such an unflattering expression for such a lovely face. Me, I try to make the best of every situation I find myself in, stealing what moments I can. It's served me well, most days. You might learn to do the same."

For a moment, Elizabeth remembered the hopelessness in his eyes the day they met, and thought about how hopeless she found her own situation – stuck in the wilderness on an impossible task, with the fate of her country riding in the balance, to say nothing of her revenge on her family's murderer.

Then she remembered that he had just told her the most explicitly sexual poetry she had heard in her life, although granted, she hadn't heard much. "I was going to talk to you about something else, but you can forget it." She turned in a huff, shoulders back and head high, and began to walk away.

He followed her. "I'm sorry, my darling Elizabeth. I meant well. Forgive me?"

"I'm sure you did," she muttered, but she stopped again anyway. Her heart was still fluttering, and when she managed to get the gloves out of her pack and give them to him, she presented them somewhat less graciously than her mother had raised her to do so. "I… got these for you."

He looked at them with confusion. "But I already have… ohhhh. I see." He turned them over critically. "Yes, they are very like to my mother's. Though the leather was less thick, and there was more embroidery."

"If you don't like them," she began and trailed off anxiously.

He looked up at her quickly. "No, no, these are very close, and quite handsome." He removed his normal gloves and began to put them on. "And they fit like, well, like a glove, ha ha!" He stopped laughing at his own joke and looked at her again. "If I seem surprised… it's because I am. I appreciate the fact that you even thought of me. No one has simply… ever given me a gift before." He paused again, uncharacteristically awkward. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," she said, even more awkwardly. "Er… Good night."

"Good night," he said, with a gallant bow.

She liked him. Dear Maker, she liked him, in spite of all the terrible poetry in the world. And the little part of her that liked his attention was laughing at her again.

.

It was late afternoon of the next day when they spotted something unusual. Zevran had climbed a tree from boredom and reported there was smoke as of a campfire coming to the southeast. They headed in that direction, but before long were greeting with a wall of ice.

"I know it's getting on to winter, but this isn't natural," Alistair quipped as he examined it.

"It's clearly someone – or something – who doesn't wish to be found," Leliana said, careful not to get too close.

"To hell with that," Morrigan said, readying a fireball. Before Elizabeth could gainsay her, she released it, creating a huge explosion that filled the clearing. Elizabeth ducked a flying piece of ice, and Alistair yelped, patting at his head to make sure it wasn't on fire.

"M-morrigan, wait," Elizabeth began, and then froze. There was an elf watching them warily, staff raised in warning and green magic at his fingertips. A campfire burned merrily beside him.

"Wait," Wynne said, actually pushing Morrigan out of the way. The witch shot her a dirty look, but Wynne was fixated by the elf. "…Aneirin?"

The elf lowered his staff. "Wynne?"

Wynne gasped and sank to her knees; Elizabeth jumped to her side, but the elderly mage waved her away. "I'm all right, I'm all right. It's just the shock… Aneirin, I thought you were dead! I thought the Templars killed you!"

"They very nearly did," the elf said frankly. "They came upon me while I was searching for the Dalish. They ran me through and left me for dead."

"I brought that fate upon you," Wynne said unhappily. "Oh, Aneirin, I am so sorry. I was such an awful teacher – an awful person to you. I have regretted everything for many, many years."

"Teacher? Sorry, can you catch us up on that?" Alistair asked.

Wynne turned to them. "Aneirin was… my first pupil at the Circle Tower. He was incredibly gifted, but in my pride and vanity I pushed him too hard. I was harsh and impatient and never once encouraged him. He ran away and I…"

"I have put that behind me," Aneirin said. "When I joined the Dalish, I shed the Circle Tower. I didn't fit in there, with the Templars and the Chantry. My path lay elsewhere. So I have indeed come to forgive you, Wynne, but it seems that you have not forgiven yourself. You should."

"I have not," Wynne said. "You were a far better teacher to me than I was to you."

"I have trouble imagining you to be harsh and impatient, Wynne," Elizabeth said.

Wynne smiled sadly. "In my youth I was different."

"I don't find it hard to imagine at all," Morrigan said. Wynne ignored her.

"Aneirin, I don't suppose you would consider returning to the Circle Tower. Irving is a reasonable man, he could find a way to let you return. The Circle needs new blood and new ideas. It only recently suffered a crisis. It needs change and guidance."

"I have fond memories of Irving," Aneirin said, smiling. "I thank you for the offer, but I am content here. I may seek out Irving someday, but I promise nothing."

"It is I who should thank you," Wynne said. "You have lifted a great weight from my spirit. I am glad you are alive, and content with your life."

"What brings you and this… strange group to the forest?" Aneirin asked. "You should not go further in this direction. The forest is dangerous to those who do not know its ways."

"We seek the leader of the werewolves, Witherfang," Wynne said. "My friends here, Elizabeth and Alistair, are Grey Wardens and they are gathering allies to fight the Blight. But the Dalish will not help us while they are being attacked by werewolves."

"That is a difficult task," Aneirin said. "I will not say impossible. But perhaps I have knowledge that will aid you."

"Please tell us, then," Wynne said.

"I have lived in this part of the woods for a long time," Aneirin said. "There have always been werewolves, at least since I came here, although they have been increasing in numbers over the past year. There is also a place in the forest that is impossible to travel. It is, I think, a valley, but impenetrable mist hangs over it. I believe that is where the werewolves live, and that must be where this Witherfang lives as well."

"How do we travel to a place that is impossible to travel to?"

"An old sylvan told me of a way, but I was not particularly interested in going there and so I declined his offer. However… there are many of you, and he will want a favour before he grants you passage."

"What sort of favour? How will we tell him apart from other sylvans?" Elizabeth asked.

"He is much larger than the normal sylvans, and he takes the form of a great oak. Now recently, a strange man, a human man, came to this part of the forest, and sometime afterwards the sylvan told me that this man stole an acorn from him."

"What's so special about an acorn?" Morrigan asked.

"This is the Grand Oak's acorn. It isn't just any old acorn. The old man is a powerful wizard, but he's completely cracked. He only converses in questions and answers. You must ask him a question to get an answer, and he will ask you a question to get an answer. He won't speak straight otherwise. Oh, and the Grand Oak converses in rhyme, though you don't have to speak to him in rhyme. So if you get the acorn from the hermit and give it to the Grand Oak, he will grant you safe passage through the forest, even to the place that is forbidden."

"Why didn't you get the acorn if he's such a friend of yours?" Morrigan retorted.

Aneirin looked at her, unimpressed. "He requires a trade, as you might expect, but it has to be something that is personal. I have nothing that I can't do without, and he will not accept even my staff. I don't know if any of you have anything, but there are eight of you. Surely you must have something."

"We'll see," Elizabeth said. "We can only try."

Aneirin paused. "Wynne, I… I think I would like to go with you. I listen to the werewolves as they pass, sometimes, and I think they are not mindless beasts. I know they have killed and tortured my people, and yet somehow I do not think it is entirely their fault."

"Why, certainly," Wynne said, surprised. "Is that all right, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, of course," Elizabeth said, and ventured a smile. "You are a friend of Wynne's and you know the forest. We will gladly have you with us."

.

They had walked for perhaps half an hour, Wynne and Aneirin catching up on most of their lives, when Morrigan casually announced "There are werewolves watching us."

Aneirin stopped immediately. "Do not move," he said. "Do not make any sudden movements. They may not attack us if we do not act hostile."

"I don't take orders from you," Morrian said, but stopped walking along with the rest of them.

There was movement among the trees, and Elizabeth finally saw what Morrigan and Aneirin had seen easily. Huge, furred shapes, like bears but with a strange loping movement somewhere between a wolf and a man, rushed towards them and broke through the bushes all around them. Huan growled at them, but stilled with a touch of Elizabeth's hand on his head. They were surrounded by wolves that stood on their hind legs like men, appearing seven feet tall even though their posture was slightly stooped, and with huge forepaws or hands with great claws that continually clenched and flexed restlessly.

"The watchwolves have spoken truly, my brothers and sisters," said one of them, a particularly large one with a brown colouring and a brutal scar on his muzzle. "The Dalish have sent a band of humans and others, of all things, to repay us for our attack! To put us in our place!" He laughed mockingly at them, and Elizabeth suddenly became aware that Zevran was edging closer to her protectively.

Elizabeth hadn't known they could speak, but that changed everything for her. "I do not wish to attack you. I wish to speak with you. I did not know you could speak."

"You took us for savage beasts! We are beasts, but we are no longer simple and mindless. Let that thought chill your spine."

"I am Elizabeth of the Grey Wardens," Elizabeth said politely. "Who are you?"

The werewolf growled. "You speak to Swiftrunner. I lead my cursed brothers and sisters. If you really wish to not fight, if only to escape with your lives, then go back to the Dalish! Go back and tell them you have failed in whatever task you came out here to do." He growled again, more loudly. "Tell them we will gladly watch them suffer the same curse we have suffered for too long! We will watch them pay."

A chill did run down Elizabeth's spine at the pure animalistic hatred in those words. "What did the Dalish ever do to you?"

"You stupid human! You know nothing of us, and less of those you serve! They cursed us! Was it not Zathrian who sent you? He wishes only our destruction! Ask him why we hate the Dalish! Run from the forest while you can. Run to the Dalish, and tell them they are doomed."

"I do not wish to fight, but neither will I run," Elizabeth said, her hand moving to her sword at her side. The others followed her lead, gripping their weapons even if they did not draw them yet.

"Be careful," Aneirin murmured.

"You will regret that," the werewolf hissed, and sprang at them.

They were terrifyingly fast. Elizabeth stood frozen as they shot towards her. Huan barked and launched himself back towards them. A huge black one was bearing down on her, claws raised to slash, and a green and gold blur shot in front of her, blades flashing. She had barely time to dodge before the massive corpse fell on her, its throat pouring blood.

Zevran shot her a cheeky grin and gestured for her to get moving with his head.

She turned towards the werewolves and did so.

Her friends would find it difficult to defend against these creatures. Leliana had already disappeared up a tree and was firing from its lower branches, and Sten was an immovable object, but Wynne only had the Stoneskin spell and Aneirin and Alistair to protect her. Morrigan was attempting to follow Leliana up a tree when a werewolf grabbed her ankle and yanked her down. Elizabeth sprinted for them, trying to get the werewolf off Morrigan; the impact of her shield did not knock it over, which did not surprise Elizabeth at all – she was far too light for that, and although her father and brother and knight had taught her to make the most of her weight, she was trying to knock over a 350 lb wall of muscle. But it did distract the wolf enough to snarl at her, which was enough for Morrigan to send a jolt of lightning into its brain.

Elizabeth shoved the body off Morrigan. "Get up the tree! I'll cover you!"

Alistair gave a strangled yell, and she turned to see him bowled off his feet by the werewolf leader Swiftrunner. Alistair had his shield up, protecting his face from the worst of the werewolf's savaging paws, but now Wynne was vulnerable. Aneirin was firing off swarm spells, but that wouldn't keep the two mages safe on all sides.

Elizabeth didn't even think. She charged Swiftrunner – Huan sprang at a werewolf that would interrupt her – and bashed him in the snout with her shield. She grabbed his shoulder to swing her momentum around and ended up riding his back with her sword across his throat, yanking his head back by the mane so he could feel it. "Call your wolves off now!"

When he made the least sign of struggling, she pressed the blade harder. "Do it! Sten, help me hold him!" To the other werewolves, she shouted "Don't move or I'll kill your leader!"

"I'll do it," Swiftrunner rasped. "I will not risk any more of my brothers and sisters against you!"

Slowly, she backed down and removed her blade from his throat. The werewolves turned without comment and loped back into the woods, leaving five dead.

Alistair sat up, looking a bit shaky. "That was some fight." Elizabeth gave him a hand up.

Zevran sighed and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Has anyone ever told you you're difficult to keep up with?" He bent towards Huan. "Do you think your mistress is difficult to keep up with?" Huan put his head on one side curiously and scratched his ear.

"She's like that," Alistair said, and she frowned at both of them while they actually chuckled companionably.

"Let us continue," Aneirin said, and he too sounded a bit shaky. "We should make the most of this reprieve." He set off again into the forest and they followed him.

After another half hour, Aneirin turned aside suddenly, into a small clearing with a stump and a dead campfire in it. "Here we are," he said, sounding much recovered.

"I don't see anyone," Alistair said, looking around.

There was a pop and a puff of smoke, and a wizened old man appeared next to the stump with a mad cackle. "Hahahaha, who are you? What do you want with me?" He spoke quickly, with cackles and sniggers between sentences. "Could be forest demons, could be… _them_ … I'll wait and see, yes I will, and if they cross me, they'll get it, oh yes!"

"It's Aneirin again, and some friends," said the elf mage. "We have come to trade with you. Do you still have that acorn?"

"I still have the acorn, my most precious treasure, that I took from that doddering sleeping old tree. What equal treasure do you offer in exchange for it, eh?"

"I don't know. Will you give us a minute to discuss it?"

"I will. But remember, it's my turn to ask a question next!"

Aneirin shook his head as he turned to them. "Indeed… So what sort of things can you offer him?"

There was a pause, and then Leliana stepped forward. "There's my lute." She unslung it from her back, the one she had carried ever since she had joined them in Lothering, polished brown wood with black and gold inlay. Elizabeth wondered how she had managed to keep it unbroken through everything, and then realized that as an archer, Leliana was usually in the back of the group, away from enemies. She strummed it one last time, sending a pleasant ripple of sound across the clearing, and handed it to Aneirin.

Aneirin offered the lute to the wizard, who took it an examined it. "A pretty thing, yes indeed, a pretty thing from a pretty forest demon. Well used, well cared for, yes yes. But… its owner is not as attached to it as my treasure was."

"Oh." Leliana took it back, somewhat disappointed.

"What else do you have for me, eh?"

Wynne took a ring from her finger. "If it's attachment he's looking for, perhaps he would like this. I've had it for thirty years. It was an award from Irving for attaining the rank of senior enchanter."

Aneirin passed it along. "We have a ring, old man. Is this what you're looking for?"

The hermit examined it even more closely than the lute. "Oooh, shiny, a shiny thing!" He put it to his eye and looked through it, then spun it around in his fingers and tossed it into the air. "Hmm, hmm, very powerful magic in such a little thing. Polished, old, enchanted, prized, but… a tool in the end. I'd trade it for… this book!" He snapped his fingers and a book appeared in his hands, an old book bound in brown leather with ornate stamping on it. He offered it eagerly to Wynne.

Wynne took it and opened it, and her forehead creased in puzzlement. "It's… nothing more than a storybook."

"It's what feels of equal value to him," Aneirin said. "He doesn't measure things the way that you might." He turned back to the hermit. "I'm sorry, we don't need that. Can we show you something else?"

Alistair had stepped forward. "Er, well… there's this amulet. It belonged to my mother, and I had it as a child, and I just found it again recently – with Elizabeth's help."

The old man took it, but it wasn't long before he handed it back. "This is better, yes, much better, many feelings and thoughts in this small thing, but a long gap in the middle with other's thoughts and feelings. Anything you have like that but more?"

Elizabeth blinked. Then, slowly, possessively, her hand went to her heart.

Morrigan looked at her and raised an eyebrow. Elizabeth looked back unhappily and drew from around her neck her locket, the one with the image of her family painted in miniature there.

She opened it and stared at them all. Bryce, her father, Eleanor, her mother, Fergus, Oriana, even little Oren – only a babe in arms when the picture had been painted – and her younger self on one side, all looking politely pleasant in their noble finery, finery that had itched and constricted while they were posing for the picture, but… they looked like a family. Her family. Her loving family. That she would never see again.

Her eyes blurred and she thrust the locket in Aneirin's direction before turning to walk swiftly out of the clearing.

Behind her she heard the hermit cheer. "Yes! This is exactly it! Family for family, loss for loss, grief for joy! The acorn is yours. Do you have anymore questions for me?"

"No," Aneirin said, and there was a pop.

Elizabeth leaned her forehead against her forearm, and her arm against a tree, and tried to get her eyes and breathing under control. She was not succeeding at either.

"Hey! Zevran," she heard Leliana say. "Leave her alone for now." She felt Huan's cold nose at her fingers and scratched his head. She heard their retreating footsteps, but they didn't go far.

After a few minutes she felt like she could face the others again. She wiped her eyes, careful not to get tell-tale smears of dirt on her face, and stepped out of the trees to join them. "All right. Let's continue."

They didn't bring up the topic and she was grateful.

.

There was not much daylight left, and it was even dimmer under the tall trees than it was on the road, so they camped relatively early. They would find the Grand Oak the next morning.

Next morning dawned grey and cold. Elizabeth dragged herself from her bedroll, ate a cold, frugal breakfast, rolled up her bedroll, and they set off again.

The Grand Oak was surrounded by smaller sylvans, who loomed over them threateningly, but the old tree kept them from attacking. He gratefully received the acorn and gave them a branch torn from his own head, saying "Keep this branch of mine with thee, and pass throughout the forest, free."

Elizabeth was still tired and did not say much, letting Aneirin guide them deeper into the forest with the branch. At around midday, they came to the edge of a deep valley – or at least to the edge of a steep slope. The mists ahead, as Aneirin had said, were thick enough she could not see the trees fifty meters ahead of her. The path they were on led under an extremely tall, but broken, arch of white stone. It looked Tevinter in origin.

The branch seemed to lessen the mist, and they journeyed carefully down a winding path in the cliffside. They were almost at the bottom when Elizabeth turned her head on some instinct, and saw silver eyes through the ferns above her. The eyes vanished immediately, and she might have caught a flash of white fur retreating. It was hard to tell.

Swiftrunner met them at the bottom of the slope with a number of followers. "The forest has not been vigilant enough! Still you come! You are strong, even stronger than I thought. The Dalish chose well. But you do not belong here, outsider! Leave this place!"

"I have come this far; I will not give up now!" Elizabeth returned. "You claim to be cursed, you claim Zathrian knows why you hate him, but you will not explain yourself to me except through violence. Either tell me what has happened or stand aside and let me speak to Witherfang!"

"You say you only want to talk, but I do not believe you. I will not risk believing you! You are an intruder in our home. You come to kill, as all your kind do! We have learned this lesson well. Here, Witherfang protects us! Here we learn our names, our being, our purpose!"

"What is your purpose?" Elizabeth's voice rang out coldly.

"To live freely! We will defend Witherfang, and this place, with our lives!"

Elizabeth hesitated. The werewolves were correct. She and her band were intruders, come with thoughts of violence, sent on a mission of violence. The werewolves had already turned out to be more than she expected, intelligent and coherent. But… she remembered the agony of the wounded elves, the grief in the eyes of Athras, and she raised her head, her eyes hard. "Others suffer from wounds _you_ caused. If you will not let me pass, I will go through you."

Swiftrunner howled and threw himself at their line. Clearly her usual tactic of charging ahead was not going to work here, and she was going to have her hands full just defending herself. If they could defend the mages, they could weaken the werewolves for them.

She smacked a snout with her shield and slashed with her sword; the sword bounced off a massive paw full of claws, claws that were coming too fast to block every blow. They raked down her arm, ripping off her pauldron with a terrible strength and putting deep scratches into the armour of her upper arm. An arrow struck that wolf in the shoulder and it reeled away. She felt Wynne cast a spell of protection on her and gripped her sword and shield more tightly.

A sudden blast of cold washed over them; Aneirin had cast an ice spell that had chilled two or three of the werewolves. One of them had been frozen solid, and two were moving slowly. Sten brought his maul down on the frozen wolf even as Morrigan sent another wolf into madness with a spell Elizabeth hadn't seen her use before. Huan was latched onto the arm of another werewolf as Alistair fended off its snapping jaws.

The werewolves were pulling back a bit, and the companions were pressing their advantage. Between Aneirin's ice and Wynne's stone, they would gain the upper hand in this conflict.

Suddenly, as Elizabeth stepped out to push them back more, she was knocked off her feet by a white flash. It did not linger on her chest but bounded away, raised its nose, and howled. The surviving werewolves fled and the white wolf followed them.

Elizabeth picked herself up and stared after them. "They will be heading for their home. Let us follow them… cautiously."

There was another tall arch ahead of them, and as they journeyed along the path, she saw more and more ruins rising out of the undergrowth and challenging the dark, tall evergreen pines. Which had come first, the buildings or the pines, she could not say. There were also signs of graves around them; she kept to the road and Aneirin made sure the others did as well. There was not much of a chance to practice her rudimentary tracking skills, but she did not sense an ambush yet.

They turned a corner in the path, which was now almost a road, and found themselves in front of a huge, almost temple-like building. The grey tail of a werewolf was just vanishing inside the front door.

"Some unfortunate architect clearly suffered from an unrequited relationship with the pointed arch," Sten observed, gazing at the facade, and Zevran chuckled. Elizabeth smiled. She hadn't expected to hear such a wry comment out of the sternly stoic warrior.

She led them up the front steps and into the temple.

It immediately began to slope down again, through an oddly narrow stairway, before opening out into a great hall large enough to fit most of Castle Highever into. There was no sign of the wolves.

The stairs to the lower half of the hall had been broken, replaced with massive tree roots a meter or more in width. They were a bit slippery, and Elizabeth was slow to descend in all her gear.

There were two directions out of the hall. "Left or right?"

Morrigan sniffed the air. "Left."

"Right," Alistair said instantly.

Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. "I can only pick one. I do not wish us to split up and be ambushed in this place."

Aneirin listened. "The right path feels… blocked. I don't like the smell of the left path but there is more air from that direction."

"Maybe they closed a door?" Leliana suggested.

"I will check," Sten said.

"I will watch your back," Wynne said, and together they entered the right passage. Elizabeth gestured at the others to come with her as she followed; hadn't she just said they shouldn't get split up?

But there was a door at the bottom of the stairs, and it was closed, and it was difficult to tell if it was locked or not – there seemed to be some great weight behind it that held it sealed. Even when Sten threw his full weight against the door, it didn't budge.

"Left it is, then," Leliana said.

"These ruins are odd," Wynne said. "They appear Tevinter, but…"

"…appear to have elven trappings," Morrigan finished. The two women looked at each other and then quickly looked away irritably.

"I think you are quite right," Aneirin said, not appearing to notice. "I wonder if the Tevinter built it for the elves? And whether these trees were incorporated into the structure, or grew up later?"

"I think it will have to be only wonderings for now," Alistair said. "There's no way we can check – unless there are ghosts here we can ask."

"Sssst," Zevran said, as they turned a corner in the left corridor, and found a set of stairs leading downwards. Huan lowered his head and growled quietly. "Indeed, there is something dangerous up ahead."

They crept onwards, although in the stony passage, every breath and footstep and chink of armour was magnified many times. There was light up ahead. Leliana got to the corner and peeked around it.

It was a long moment before she drew back to whisper to them. "It looks clear. Just a large hall with part of the roof fallen in."

Still tense, they edged into the hall, weapons held tightly.

A whooshing noise came from the ceiling and a blast of fire rained down on them. Elizabeth raised her shield to cover her head, grabbing Leliana and shielding her as well. The fire passed and she charged as something heavy but lithe landed before them.

Alistair shouted. "Dragon!"

.

Two hours later, they had descended to the very roots of the temple, wandering through passages, caves, tunnels, even some more good-sized halls. They had defeated the small dragon and fought giant spiders, undead, even a few werewolves who thought they could take them unawares.

And Elizabeth was getting very tired.

Having Aneirin with them made things a bit easier, of course – three mages blasting away at their enemies made things easier for those of them who fought in closer quarters.

They had come to some sort of antechamber and were faced with a dozen wolves. They snarled, and the companions tensed, but one of the wolves stepped forward. "Be at ease, brothers and sisters. We do not wish any more of our people hurt." He turned to Elizabeth. "You have forced your way this far. If your intentions are truly to talk, then we shall talk."

"Very well," Elizabeth said, and sheathed her sword. "What is-"

"Not with me," interrupted the werewolf. "You will speak… with the Lady."

"Who is this Lady?" Elizabeth asked, and got nothing more than a grunt and a wave.

Flanked by an honour guard of restlessly shifting, snorting wolves, they entered the room behind. It was a large circular room with trees growing around the edge, breaking through the domed room at the top. There was some sort of carving on the back wall which looked elvish, and a raised dais in the centre of the room.

Dozens of wolves crowded the room, most of them snarling or growling at them. The sounds echoed until they became deafening, but Elizabeth squared her shoulders. She would not let them see that she was intimidated.

Swiftrunner was at the front of the dais, and he snarled at them ferociously. Elizabeth didn't see from where she came, but suddenly a beautiful woman walked to his side and touched his shoulder, and the giant wolfman was still and quiet. The others followed suit.

The Lady – for surely that was who she was – had a pale greenish tone to her skin. Her eyes were black with no whites, and her hair was a greenish black, long and smooth and shining and flowing down her body. Dry brown vines twined around her lower body. She caressed Swiftrunner's shoulder like a mother, and he knelt at her side. The other werewolves knelt to her as well.

Elizabeth took her cue from them and bowed before the beautiful, inhuman Lady. She heard a voice, a low-pitched woman's voice, absolutely serene. "I bid you welcome, mortal. I am the Lady of the Forest."

Elizabeth straightened. "I am Elizabeth of the Grey Wardens. I thank you for your welcome and I apologize deeply for the actions I have taken to come here."

Swiftrunner looked up and growled. "Do not listen to her, Lady! She will betray you, she was sent by Zathrian! We must attack them now."

If the wolves attacked now, they would not stand much of a chance…

"Hush, Swiftrunner. Zathrian sent her, but she is not Zathrian," said the Lady. "Since she came to this part of the forest, she has fought only where she needed to, while your lust for battle has destroyed many of those you are trying to save." She turned back to Elizabeth. "I apologize in turn for Swiftrunner. He… struggles, with his nature."

"I think everyone must struggle with their path in life," Elizabeth said.

"It is true. Now let us speak. There are things that Zathrian has not told you."

"How do you know?" Elizabeth asked.

"Because I know Zathrian, and there are things that he would not tell anyone… but these are things that you must decide for yourself if you need to know. Firstly, it was Zathrian who created the curse that these creatures suffer. Centuries ago, the Dalish came to this place. But a tribe of humans lived nearby, and wanted to drive the Dalish away. Zathrian was a young man then, and he had a son and daughter he loved greatly. One day while they were out hunting, the humans captured them both. The boy, they tortured and murdered. The girl, they raped and left for dead. The Dalish found her, but later she learned that she was with child. She killed herself."

Elizabeth's eyes were wide. "That's awful."

"Zathrian came to this ruin," Swiftrunner said, "and summoned a terrible spirit, binding it to the body of a great white wolf. So Witherfang came to be. Witherfang hunted the humans of that tribe, and killed many, but others were cursed by his blood, becoming… twisted, and… savage… creatures."

"Twisted and savage just as Witherfang himself is," said the Lady. "When the human tribe finally left for good, these beasts remained – pitiful, mindless animals. They reproduced as they could, and lived a wretched existence over the slow years."

"Until I found you, my lady," Swiftrunner said. "You gave me peace."

"I soothed Swiftrunner's animal rage, and his human side emerged. He brought others to me, the others you see here." A grunting murmur ran around the room.

"And so you attacked the Dalish for revenge?" Elizabeth asked.

"In part," the Lady said. "We seek to end the curse. The crimes committed against Zathrian were terrible, yet they happened centuries ago." She began to frown, and Elizabeth braced herself – she had the feeling that the anger of this Lady would be terrible indeed. "Word was sent to Zathrian every time the Aravels passed this way, and yet he ignored us. He will no longer ignore us. But even now he sends you, and seeks to end the curse by killing Witherfang, instead of coming himself to undo the curse properly."

"What will happen if Witherfang is killed?" Elizabeth asked.

"He will be able to lift the curse on his own people who have not yet turned, yes," the Lady said. "But there will be no hope left for these poor beasts, and they will revert back into what they were before they met me."

"Are… are you Witherfang as well?" Elizabeth asked.

The Lady did not answer her. "Please, mortal, go to Zathrian and ask him to come. We mean him no harm. Surely he can be persuaded to relent, after all these years." Her face darkened again. "Tell him also, that I have the power to ensure that Witherfang is never found. He will never find the white wolf, and he will never cure his own people."

Elizabeth was silent for a moment, although she knew her answer. "I will ask him to come. I do not know if he will come."

"He is still a proud man. But he must come." The Lady gestured to one side of the room. "We shall open the door for you, and lower the mist barrier. Please, return quickly."

There was a door on one side of the room, blocked by an enormous rock. Two werewolves went to it and shifted it aside with ease. Elizabeth shivered at their strength.

They went up the stairs and found themselves in the first great hall of the Temple.

"It's a long way back to the Dalish camp," Alistair said. "I hope they're still there when we get there."

"They will be," Morrigan said. "They're waiting for that heart to cure them."

"Such an item smacks of blood magic," Wynne murmured disapprovingly. "If there is a more peaceable way to accomplish our goal, I would like to take it."

"We can't linger, then," Elizabeth said. "Let me see… Leliana, Huan, Morrigan, Aneirin – you can travel quickly. Will you set out ahead of us? We will come as quickly as we can but at least let Zathrian know we are coming."

Huan barked happily and scampered ahead.

"Easy there!" Leliana cried. "We'll go let them know you're coming, Elizabeth!"

The four of them disappeared out of the temple by the time the more heavily burdened warriors – and Zevran – were halfway up the stairs.

.

They had almost reached the edge of the valley when they found the advance party returning – with their number increased by one.

Huan bounded up to Elizabeth and frisked around her. "Huan? What's going on? Why did you come back?"

"Someone came to see if we were doing his dirty work properly," Morrigan snarked as she appeared from around a tree.

Zathrian appeared behind her. "I came to speed the healing of my people. But I take it you do not have the heart of Witherfang. Why, then, are you leaving this place?" His voice was haughty, and for all that he had said he was not a lord, Elizabeth saw in him the same demeanour as many old lords whom she had met at Highever or in Denerim.

"I've been sent to bring you to the Lady of the Forest," Elizabeth said. "What do you mean, this place? Did you know the werewolves were here?"

Zathrian hesitated, caught in a slip. "So that's what that spirit calls herself now," he muttered. "And what does she want with me, if I might inquire?"

Elizabeth raised her chin. "I think you know. And she will not summon Witherfang unless you break the curse."

Zathrian sighed, with a stately eyeroll. "You do realize that she is, in fact, Witherfang?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said. "That has become clear to me."

"The curse came first from her. Those she has afflicted with it mirror her own duality: beautiful and terrible, serene and savage, maiden and beast. But it is a curse, and they are far more on the bestial side than the other."

"They speak with the voices of men, and with articulate thoughts," Elizabeth said. "They are no mere beasts, not anymore at least."

"I find that hard to believe," Zathrian said. "They attacked my clan as savages. They should be wiped out, not defended."

"I did not come to argue for them but to let them argue for themselves," Elizabeth said, raising her chin.

Zathrian glared at her. "I will come with you, child, but only to force the spirit to take on Witherfang's form, where she may be slain."

"I will not protect you if you do so without speaking to her first," Elizabeth said.

Zathrian's face darkened even further. "Then let us get this over with."

.

In the circular room of the temple, Zathrian strode impatiently towards the dais where the Lady waited. "So here you are, spirit."

Swiftrunner shot towards the elf and towered over him. "She is the Lady of the Forest! You will address her properly!"

Zathrian brushed spittle from his shoulder distastefully. "You've taken a name, spirit? And given names to your pets?"

"It was they who gave me a name, Zathrian," the Lady said, calmly, though more coolly than she had been speaking to Elizabeth. "The names they take are their own. They only follow me because I helped them find who they are."

"Who they are has not changed from the wild savages and worthless dogs their ancestors were!" Zathrian said. Huan growled at him, but Zathrian went on. "Their twisted shape only mirrors their monstrous hearts!"

"He will not help us, Lady!" Swiftrunner growled. "It is as I warned you. He is not here to talk!"

"No," Zathrian said. "I will talk, although I see little point in it. We all know what will happen. Your nature compels it, as does mine."

Elizabeth stared at him. "Do you still have so much hatred after all this time?"

"You were not there!" Zathrian erupted. "You did not see what they did to my son – to my daughter! And so many others! You are not Dalish. You do not know how we struggled to be safe. How could I let their crimes go unanswered?"

"Those crimes were committed centuries ago," the Lady said sternly. "Who is being punished now?"

"I remember them as if it were yesterday, branded into my memory! I will hate those transgressors and their descendants for eternity!"

"My family was murdered by Arl Rendon Howe," Elizabeth said. "I will see him die by my hands and him I will hate forever. But once he is dead, he is dead. I will not hate everyone from Amaranthine."

Zathrian gave a hollow laugh. "Become a mother and then tell me you would not burn Amaranthine to the ground for the deaths of your children."

"Ha," Elizabeth laughed bitterly in return, and the movement of her companions stilled at something so unusual for her. "That is no longer an option for me. As a Cousland, a noblewoman, it was inevitably my future, to marry and breed and continue someone's line, but that all changed the moment I became a Grey Warden and no longer a Cousland. Even if I wished to be a mother, I cannot. I know it would be different if I was. But just because I am not a mother, doesn't mean I don't care for my family! It doesn't mean I wouldn't fight for them with the last of my strength! If my father had let me, I would have died at his side fighting Howe! And now that I still live, I will tear him apart with my bare hands if I have to!"

Zathrian's lip curled. "Your passion is commendable but untested."

Elizabeth wasn't listening. "My father might destroy Amaranthine for my sake, but he would not leave it in ruins forever. Even if… even if the Dalish attacked me, he would not kill every Dalish who crossed Highever. And even if he had sunk so far from the man I loved and honoured as a father, he was only a mortal man. He could not go on generation after generation, nurturing his hatred, as you have!" Her hands were clenched, her voice had lifted and tears streamed down her face. The room was dead silent; even the wolves were silent. Everyone was staring at Zathrian and her.

"You will notice that I did not kill you or your companions. I do not hate all humans, only these animals who destroyed my family! I am trying to protect my people!"

"You didn't kill me because you used me!" she screamed hoarsely through her tears. "You are using me to "protect" your people, a puppetmaster with this black secret, and you want to wipe out the last evidence instead of taking responsibility for what you have done now that it has come around to bite you! It doesn't matter if you're ten times older than I am, a hundred, a thousand – your hatred has twisted you and stolen your honour!"

Unexpectedly, Zathrian's face softened. She had expected him to become even angrier from her reckless accusations, but instead his frown faded and there was something like nostalgia in his eyes. "You are a lot like my daughter… Aelitha… But I must still kill Witherfang. Even if I believed your words, I must still lead my people."

"You can still lead them," Elizabeth said, her rage slowly draining. "Only lift the curse and end this cycle of grief."

"I… cannot." But she had got him to hesitate. There was still hope.

The Lady stepped forward again, breaking their face-off. "Are you certain your pain is the only reason you will not end this curse? Have you told the mortal how it was created?"

"He told me he summoned you and bound you to a wolf," Elizabeth said.

"That is true," the Lady said, her black, fathomless eyes still on Zathrian, whose brief moment of sympathy was gone and was as hard as stone again. "But to do such powerful magic – to pull an essence from the trees, the stones, the water, the earth itself – requires immense power… and a great deal of Zathrian's blood."

"Blood magic…"

"Your people believe you have rediscovered the immortality of their ancestors, Zathrian, but that is not true," scolded the Lady gently. "So long as the curse exists, so do you."

"No! That is not how it is!" Zathrian protested angrily. "My people must have justice!"

"So Zathrian would die if the curse were broken?" Elizabeth asked. "That is why you said you could not lead your people?"

"The curse would not end with Zathrian's death," explained the Lady. "His life, however, relies on its existence." She gazed sorrowfully at the old elf. "I am sorry for you, Zathrian, clinging to the things around you. It is time to let go, is it not? Release us both."

"Or we can just kill him!" Swiftrunner shouted. "Kill him to end the curse!"

"Killing me will do nothing!" Zathrian shouted back. "You mindless beast, you may speak but you have no intelligence! Only I know how to perform the ritual to end the curse and I will never do it!"

"Then we kill them all!" Swiftrunner howled, and the wolves snarled with him.

"You see, they turn on you as well!" Zathrian said to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth glared back at him. "I will not fight your conflict for you! Stand down!"

"Then you will die with them!" Zathrian ran to one side of the room, seeming not to care that he was alone and vastly outnumbered. He waved his staff, and where the Lady had stood was a white wolf with silver eyes, the same one that had watched Elizabeth and attacked her in defense of the werewolves earlier.

The white wolf howled, and the other wolves howled back. The clamour was deafening.

"What's the plan!?" Alistair yelled to Elizabeth over the din.

"Knock him down before anyone gets hurt!" Elizabeth shouted back. "Don't kill him yet!" More there was not time to say, since she was knocked off her feet by an immense force.

"Demons!" shouted Wynne. "He is using blood magic!"

A tall pillar of what looked like ash, with clawing arms and an immense, gaping maw filled with jagged teeth, loomed over where Elizabeth sprawled on the floor. Even worse, before she could scramble to her feet, roots burst from the ground and ensnared her, pinning her down. She struggled uselessly and cried out in desperation, though it was lost in the noise.

The demon stooped over her, claws raised and teeth shifting, and a pair of daggers flashed through its body. Distracted, the demon turned and swatted at Zevran, who laughed cheekily and danced away.

She was still stuck. Some of the trees around the room were sylvans, and had apparently decided to fight everyone in it. The werewolves were dealing with them ferociously, and as she watched, one fell over, shredded to mulch by claws and teeth. With that, she could move, and she scrambled up to go assist Zevran. Her companions were also fighting the demons, keeping them away from the wolves and the sylvans.

Even as she sliced the demon from top to bottom and it collapsed into a pile of ash, the room began to swirl with an icy wind that quickly increased into a gale. Elizabeth put up her shield to ward off the snow and dust that was assaulting her, but making any headway against it was impossible. She saw Wynne collapse and hurried as quickly as she could to try to protect her; farther on she saw Sten take a flying rock to the gut and fall over. There was a burst of fire, probably from Morrigan, but it did little to cut through the blizzard.

She had to get to Zathrian, knock him down, and beat some sense into him. Or let Alistair do it – she could dimly see her friend staggering bodily through the storm, leaning on the wind in the direction Zathrian had been in before. Alistair reached the edge of the storm and suddenly began to move more freely, and suddenly the wind began to drop. She heard smacking sounds and winced.

Zathrian put his arms up to protect against Alistair hitting him in the head with his shield any more. His left hand was bleeding and she wondered if he had used blood to summon the storm. "No more! I cannot… I cannot defeat you."

"Kill him now!" Swiftrunner howled. "Finish it!" The werewolves crowded around him

"No, Swiftrunner," said the Lady, holding him back with a touch and the concern of her voice. "If there is no room in our hearts for mercy, how can there be room in his?"

"I am too old to know mercy," Zathrian said. "All I see are the faces of my children, my people. My people need my guidance! I cannot do it."

"Lanaya is ready to lead," Elizabeth said. "She told me that her training was finished. Please, end this, for everyone's sake. Don't let your clan die."

Zathrian sat on the floor for a long moment, catching his breath and gathering his thoughts. "Perhaps… perhaps I have lived too long. The hatred in me is like an ancient, gnarled root. It has eaten me many years and it will never be satisfied. So… yes. Perhaps you are right. I should end it." He turned to the Lady. "What of you, spirit? You are bound as I am. Do you not fear your end?"

"You are my maker, Zathrian," said the Lady without hesitation. "You gave me form and consciousness where none existed. I have known pain, and love, and hope, and fear… all the joy that is life. Yet of all things, I desire an end. Let me be done. Let us lay down our burdens together." She gestured to the wolves around her. "We beg you. Show mercy."

Zathrian was quiet for another long time. "You shame me, spirit. I am an old man… alive long past my time." Slowly, painfully, he got to his feet. "Yes. I think it is time. Let us… let us put an end to it all."

The Lady looked him in the eye and nodded, slowly. Swiftrunner reached out to her, and she turned to him and let him hug her. Then she turned back to Zathrian. "I am ready."

Zathrian took a deep breath and struck his staff on the floor. A burst of blue fire flared up, and he toppled to the floor, dead. The Lady's eyes grew wide with alarm, and some of the werewolves reached out to comfort her – but then she burst into golden light, growing to an immense golden fire that stretched towards the domed roof. It was blinding, but it gave no heat. The werewolves backed away, but one by one, they were consumed by the golden light.

When Elizabeth lowered her arm and her eyes cleared, she saw… humans. Dozens of humans, naked, lying or sitting on the floor. As they recovered themselves, their eyes lit up and they began to laugh, to shout, to hug each other.

"Very touching," Zevran said.

"I think it's rather disgusting," Morrigan commented.

"You're so rude. I think it's sweet," Leliana said.

"You would," Morrigan muttered.

One of them, with brown hair, came up to them, still in a werewolf-like posture, though he was trying to stand straight. It would take practice, Elizabeth considered, trying very hard to keep her eyes at eye-level.

"It's over," said the man, and she recognized Swiftrunner's voice. "She's gone, and… and we're _human_! I can scarcely believe it."

She nodded. "What will you do now?"

"We'll leave the forest, I suppose," said Swiftrunner thoughtfully. "Find… clothes, find other humans, see what's out there for us. It will be quite interesting." He bowed clumsily to Elizabeth. "Thank you. We'll never forget you or what you've done for us."

"You better now," Morrigan grumbled quietly. "Honestly, the bother we go to for the most random people…"

"You're welcome," Elizabeth said. "Maker guide your way."

Swiftrunner turned and began to lope out of the temple, and his people followed him.

.

Aneirin parted from them at the entrance to the temple, saying he would like to return to his life of wandering. Wynne bade him a fond farewell, and he repeated his intention of speaking to Irving at some point.

They hiked back to the elven camp, and found them still in the same place. Lanaya was waiting for them. "It was you, wasn't it? I know it was you. I don't know how it happened, but the hunters are all cured. Ma serannas! Thank you so much!"

"I am glad," Elizabeth said. "However, Zathrian…"

Lanaya held up a hand to stop her. "I know. I… felt his passing. But I think he was ready to go." She drew herself up, although her face was mournful – Elizabeth was certain Zathrian had been a surrogate father to her. "It will be difficult to fill his shoes. He was our Keeper for many centuries, and he will be sorely missed. But I am ready to take his place, and the first thing I shall do will be to honour the treaty between the Dalish elves and the Grey Wardens. Call, and we shall come with great speed and purpose, and we shall strike at your foes. I shall send word to all the tribes of the Brecilian Forest. This, I swear."

"Thank you, Keeper Lanaya," Elizabeth said. "I will send word to you when we are ready to march on the darkspawn horde."

"It has been a long time since the Dalish marched to war," said Lanaya. "But in the end, I trust we shall make a difference for you."

"You will," Elizabeth assured her. They had the soldiers of Redcliffe – or they would, as soon as Arl Eamon recovered, and they had the Circle mages, and they had the Dalish of the Brecilian Forest. All that was left was the dwarves of Orzammar, and perhaps if Loghain stood down, the armies of Gwaren and Denerim and the Bannorn as well. She almost began to be hopeful.

.

The elves gave them a feast, to celebrate their new Keeper, to honour the memory of their old Keeper, and to thank Elizabeth and her companions for their efforts. But Elizabeth herself left early, tired and in need of some thinking time.

She wandered out into the forest near the river, not quite out of sight of the camp, having left the others still eating and drinking and talking. Sten and Huan had been growling at each other, but somehow she felt they were having a conversation of sorts. She was not afraid for her own safety; there would not be any sylvans close to camp and she could probably outrun most other forest creatures or at least make enough noise that someone would come to her aid.

She needed time to think. The night they had spent getting back to camp she had simply dropped off instantly, and she had many things stored up to think about. Her outburst at Zathrian, the Lady's words, the fate of the former werewolves, the relationship between Zathrian and his people… She sniffled.

"It was quite a week," Zevran's cheerful accent came out of the shadows behind her. "First we think, these folk are the bad guys, because they attacked the elves, and then they say, no, this one is the bad guy, because he started it, and then in the end perhaps no one is the bad guy. What say you? It's probably not good to be out on your own. You don't mind me being here, do you?"

Elizabeth did not turn to look at him, did not say anything – she couldn't say anything because her throat had closed up from emotion.

He came to stand in front of her, and it would be childish to turn away… but she avoided his eyes.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat and wrapped her arms around herself, cold from both the night air and her thoughts. "I… regret what happened yesterday."

"But you won. The elves were happy, the werewolves were happy… I'm happy, and you know how important I am to this whole venture…"

"And in the process, a man rich in years and knowledge and wisdom died, and a spirit unique in all the world."

Zevran snorted. "He wasn't that wise if he couldn't let it go after the third generation."

"He was ignoring the problem and hoping it would go away," Elizabeth agreed. "As for living forever… I know it was blood magic, but it must have been so tempting. But besides that, he had experience. Lanaya is ready to be Keeper, but is she ready to lead her people to war?"

"Are you?" he asked

"I don't know. Probably not."

"I think you're doing fine so far."

She looked at him – he was tall, for an elf, but she was tall for a woman, and that meant that she could look him directly in the eye. "I'm deciding the fate of nations. One mistake and Ferelden is doomed. I was trained to lead a teyrnir, not a kingdom behind its back."

"You haven't made any mistakes."

She closed her eyes. "What if I made one yesterday?"

"What if you didn't?" he said, and wrapped his arms around her.

She inhaled sharply. Her heart sped up – if he was trying to warm her up, he was certainly succeeding. The faint moonlight shone through the trees behind him, casting his face into deep shadow. She was flustered, but tried not to show it. No one had held her in a long time, except perhaps Wynne – she did not count the demon in the Circle Tower – and she was not used to such attention, except perhaps from her brother and nephew. Her arms were still wrapped in front of her, between them uncomfortably.

"You truly loved your family, didn't you."

She turned her face away. "Yes."

"It's not something I can truly understand."

She closed her eyes again. "It's all right. It seems, in this time, that family is only a weakness that leads to great pain… if only because of the happiness that came before. Do they teach that in the Crows?"

"Yes," he said, his voice very low. "Trusting anyone leads to pain. But you trust so easily, don't you? I am not going to betray that trust."

She could feel his breath on her face and opened her eyes. His were gleaming in the dark, and she was mesmerized by them. "Zevran… I… I do trust you. I like you."

"I know," he said. Their noses touched, and her eyes closed again as he leaned closer.

It was a gentle kiss, a sweet kiss, and it was Elizabeth's first kiss. Her arms loosened and she moved to rest her hands on his shoulders, and he tightened his arms around her. Her heart sang through her body and it felt like she had forgotten how to breathe. He was warm and smelled of leather and sweat. His mouth moved against hers, and she was hyperaware of every tiny move, every tiny sound, even though the whole thing seemed like a dream.

She stared at him curiously when he let her mouth go. "W-why would you kiss me?"

"Because I like you too."

Her eyebrows twitched. "And not, perhaps, because no one else in the group will let you within punching distance?"

He chuckled and she could feel it through his chest. "Perhaps that as well. But I also like you, and I want you to take care of yourself, darling Liz. None of this "I would die to see Howe dead" stuff. We need you more than he does. You should have some happiness during this time. There's enough unhappiness in the world without you inflicting more on yourself."

She blinked, trying to process what he was saying. "You had better not die, then."

"I will do my utmost," he said with a grin, and kissed her again.

.

Author's note: When Zevran asks if he should not call you beautiful/handsome, DON'T YOU DARE say "you should not" if you want to have a romance with him. The first time I played, I roleplayed so hard that mega-tsundere Liz accidentally cut off all chance at romance and I didn't realize it until 75% of the way through the game, meaning I had to restart. :P

Also Zevran's theme song is The Beginning by One Ok Rock, which is also from the credits of the first live-action Rurouni Kenshin movie.


	8. Orzammar

Orzammar

.

Elizabeth went to Varathorn the next morning, and the craftsmaster smiled upon seeing her. "Andaran atish'an, Warden Elizabeth. I have completed your armour."

Elizabeth smiled too, in relief. "I am glad. My own is not fit to wear anymore. It served me well enough in battle against men and darkspawn, but against trees and werewolves… less so."

"The ironbark mail will protect you from all of the above," Varathorn said, and drew out a suit of armour from a storage chest beside him. "It will even withstand fire, to a degree, though I don't recommend standing in a mage's fireball anyway."

Elizabeth stared at it in wonder. It had been made of cleverly overlapping plates of what looked like neither wood nor metal, done in a more human style than she had expected. It was reinforced through the chest and collar, and the shoulders were well covered with round pauldrons. The plates were attached to a blue leather undercoat, almost as if they were embedded inextricably in it. It had a silvery gleam to it, but when she touched it it felt like velvety wood. "How did you make this?"

"It's a secret known to few," Varathorn said. "An ancient art forgotten as the long years pass, and most even among elves are not able to do it. It is time-consuming, so I would rather not show it to you now. Would you try it on?"

She took it, finding the lacings in the blue undercoat and drawing it over her head. It took a few shrugs to get it to settle properly, but when it did, and she tightened the lacings again, it fit perfectly. Varathorn looked pleased.

"I can usually judge measurements at a glance, but I do not usually do work for humans. I am glad it fits."

"It's beautiful," Elizabeth said admiringly. She cast a glance towards her own camp. "It is broken, but… would you have any use for my old armour? I have no need of it anymore." And she had already given away her locket. She could give away her armour as well. She would keep the arm armour, the gauntlets, the greaves, since the ironbark mail did not come with those, but hauling around the rest of it would be a useless burden.

"I'm sure I can do something with the metal," Varathorn said. "Just leave it with me before you go. And… here. I know your friends did not ask for anything, but I made these amulets to keep them safe. They have the strength of tree and stone woven into them. They may aid you in a struggle."

She bowed to him, thanking him repeatedly, and went back to her own camp.

Alistair whistled when he saw her. "Wow, that's impressive. I'm beginning to think I want one!"

"You missed that boat," Morrigan said, dumping her tent into Bodhan's cart. "We're packing up to leave."

"Besides, your armour isn't a mess like hers was," Leliana said.

"Varathorn did make something for each of you," Elizabeth said, and gave them the amulets.

"Wonderful, another trinket to weigh us down," Morrigan said, but she accepted it with a little bow that was only half-mocking.

"Well, that's very thoughtful of him," Alistair said. "I'll be happy with this. Your armour looks great, though."

"I agree," Elizabeth said, admiring it. She caught Zevran admiring it as well and shot him a glare, which only made him grin wider.

Lanaya saw them off, with a "Dareth shiral, falonen" and the repeated promise of aid against the Blight. Then they set out west again, retracing their steps along the Imperial Highway towards Redcliffe, as Lanaya had given them enough supplies that they did not need to visit Denerim but could set out straight for Orzammar. It would be a long journey.

Part of the way there, they met a traveling merchant who sold them what he claimed to be the control rod of a golem. It was cheap, but his story seemed believable. Wynne had to explain to Elizabeth what a golem was – a living statue of immense power that would do the bidding of the one who held the control rod. Apparently there was one in the basement of the Circle Tower, but no one had been able to activate it for a long time.

From what Wynne said, a golem would be marvelously helpful against the darkspawn, so they made the twelve-day trip west to the tiny mountain village of Honnleath. They arrived just in time to save the village from a troop of invading darkspawn. After a fierce battle, the villagers thanked them and welcomed them into their homes, the ones that had not been burned. Elizabeth's helmet had been knocked off and crushed in the melee, and they gave her a new one, one that was copper-coloured with elegant wings at the temples. It looked like it had belonged to a noble warrior, although it currently belonged to no one. She accepted it gratefully.

The golem was more problematic. The control rod did not appear to work, and Elizabeth and Wynne spent the afternoon in the house of the mage who had once lived in the village, looking for anything that might help them fix the rod or at least get the golem moving again.

"You should be careful with him," Wynne said as they pored through piles of paper in the dark, dusty basement laboratory.

Elizabeth looked up, her eyes and mind spinning with words and diagrams she didn't understand, on the verge of giving up and playing with the doodads that sat on the desk beside her. "The golem?"

Wynne smiled briefly, then schooled her face to seriousness. "That as well. But I meant Zevran. You have been spending a lot of time with him, haven't you?"

Elizabeth blushed. "I suppose I have." And she had kissed him more than once since that night in the forest. It was intoxicating, addicting, even. She had not gone any farther, and so far he had not pressed for anything more.

"With the way you talk so late into the night, it's hard to avoid noticing."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said. "Are we too noisy? I don't want to disturb anyone."

Wynne shook her head. "That's not the problem. I wanted to know where you thought this relationship is going. Surely you've noticed he seems to have only one thing on his mind, and he seeks it from everyone, not only you. You are simply the only one who has accepted his advances. I question the advisability of getting involved with him in the slightest."

Elizabeth frowned a little. "I know he's… not one to be tied down. But I'm lonely. He's lonely. I don't think he's trying to take advantage of me, he's been very – well, relatively polite. I'm trying to be careful but it's… difficult."

Wynne's face softened a little. "Of course, dear. But I just don't think he's good for you – or for the Grey Wardens. You might consider sending him on his way if he becomes too much of a distraction."

Elizabeth put down her stack of papers with a thwump. "I will do no such thing."

"Elizabeth, this is for the sake of Ferelden. Don't risk your duty and emotional health over a foreign assassin. He might have been loyal to you so far but he is not necessarily in line with your goals."

Elizabeth got up and began to leave. "My father always told me 'duty comes first'. I follow his teaching but I do not see how this interferes with my duty. I will be as careful as I can but I'm not sending him away." She paused at the door of the room. "I'm going to see if the villagers know anything else about the golem."

"Very well," Wynne said stiffly, and Elizabeth felt her heart grow heavy at the thought that she had offended her surrogate mother-figure.

It turned out that the words that the merchant had given her to use with the control rod were incorrect. One villager had been out searching for his little daughter after the attack, and had not been there when Elizabeth had first asked about the golem. But now, with his daughter in tow, he told her a different set of words to use on the golem, and ten minutes later she discovered the control rod was broken, and a large, cranky, independent golem with a phobia of pigeons had joined their group, impatient to get away from the village where it had been frozen in place for so long.

The golem's name was Shale, and since Elizabeth had no idea if it had a gender, she called it Shale as much as possible instead of attempting any pronouns. Shale and Sten almost immediately hit it off, impressed with each others sturdiness and strength and both called the humans 'small'. By the third day, Sten was calling Shale by a strange word, 'kadan'. She wondered what it meant. It was definitely a term of respect.

Their quest had been successful, even though Shale was definitely not what Elizabeth was expecting. Still, Shale was fascinating, once she looked past the understandable grumpiness, and Shale was willing to fight darkspawn, comparing them to 'the humanoid variant of pigeons'. Shale was also interested that Elizabeth's next destination was going to be Orzammar, since golems were made by the dwarves a long time ago. Outwardly, Shale did not seem particularly curious about the origins of golems, or about Shale's personal past, but Elizabeth sensed in their conversations an undercurrent of excitement.

They came to Redcliffe but they did not stop there this time, taking the highway further west through Gherlen's Pass towards Orlais. It was a two-week journey from Honnleath, and they were occasionally delayed by helping travelers on the road, or avoiding more darkspawn or other monsters. And the road slowly climbed ever higher, and the wind blew more fierce and cold, until even Morrigan put on warmer clothes.

The highway continued on towards Orlais, but a steep path led north away from the highway, and this they followed to the head of a valley. The mountainside there had been carved into symmetrical ornate, angular shapes that could be seen for miles. At the foot of the carvings was a door that, as they drew closer, must have been three stories tall, but it was dwarfed by the rest of the carvings. It was lit in the dusk by torches, shedding an orange gleam over the wall.

In the hollow of the mountain before the gate, there was a small village of tents. It seemed to be mostly merchants and traders, and Bodhan Feddic declared that he would join them, as they would have no need of him in Orzammar itself. The companions gave him doubtful looks, but Elizabeth accepted his words – not without her own reservations, but there was little she would be able to do about it anyway. She herself looked through the merchants wares out of curiosity only, for she had little coin to spare. Sten came with her, to her surprise, but then she recalled that he had someone to see here.

Soon enough, he found who he was looking for – a thin man with beady eyes named Faryn, who stammered under Sten's fierce gaze. Elizabeth was not terribly gentle in her own speech, as this man was not a sort that was worth her time, but she couldn't compare to the Qunari. Without a great deal of persuading, the man told them that the sword they sought had been bought by a dwarf journeying to Redcliffe.

Elizabeth looked confused. "Was his name Dwyn?"

"Aye, that he was. Angry sort, too." Faryn shot an anxious look at Sten and cowered some more.

"Dwyn didn't use that sword when fighting the undead, did he?" she asked Sten.

"He would not be able to use it," Sten said. "He purchased it for no gain on his part."

"He told me he was a collector, he did," Faryn said wretchedly. "Please, sir, I tell you the truth."

"Very well," Sten said. "Then when we return to Redcliffe we shall take it." Faryn sighed with relief as they walked away.

Having rested a short while in the merchant camp, the companions gathered and headed for the great gate. There were many dwarf guards there, heavily armed in black armour with large, double-headed axes. There was also a small group of human soldiers, and Elizabeth felt Alistair tense beside her as they recognized the heraldry of Teyrn Loghain.

The captain of those soldiers was shouting at the dwarf. "Can you not understand? King Loghain demands the allegiance of the deshyrs! Or lords, or whatever you call them in your assembly!"

"No outsiders are allowed into Orzammar until our situation is resolved," said the door guard with professional detachment, though Elizabeth caught contempt in his face.

"So it's King Loghain now, is it?" Alistair said icily, as they climbed the steps to stand level with the soldiers.

The captain turned in a crouch, ready to brawl with whoever had said that. His eyes widened a little as he took in their heavily armed group that easily equaled his own soldiers. "Yes, Teyrn Loghain is now king as regent for his daughter Queen Anora! Where have you been?"

"Oh, hither and yon, just recruiting allies for the much more effective Grey Warden war effort," Alistair said airily.

Elizabeth frowned – they had no idea how effective Loghain's stratagems actually were – and interrupted. "I have a treaty between the dwarves and the Grey Wardens that I would like to discuss with your king."

"Let me see it," the door guard said. Elizabeth nodded and Alistair showed him the treaty.

The guard grimaced as he handed it back. "This allows for no mistake. You may enter Orzammar, despite the command of the deshyrs, but be warned: our king, Endrin Aeducan, returned to the Stone not three weeks ago, stricken over the loss of his sons. We do not currently have a king to honour your treaty."

"I see," Elizabeth said. "How long will it be until you have chosen a new one?" If it had been three weeks already, it couldn't be that long.

"I cannot say. It is not my position to know."

"Hey!" shouted Loghain's captain. "If I'm not allowed in, no one should be allowed in! Certainly not these traitors to Ferelden!"

The door guard shot him a quelling glance. "You should be grateful we even allow you to remain at the gate, human. As for traitors, this is Orzammar, not Ferelden."

"This won't be forgotten!"

"I'm sure," said the guard dryly. "If you want to take it up with the Grey Wardens, we won't stop you. But that will probably end with us kicking your bodies into a ravine anyway."

The captain looked at Shale, who chose this moment to casually slam a fist into an open palm, and subsided.

A small door opened in the great gate, and they filed in to the mountain. Two guards came with them to be their guides.

The first thing they saw was a great hall filled with statues, many of them life-like, but all much larger than life. Many dwarves milled around with the air of tourists. Huan looked back through the door at the outside world, but it closed behind them.

"I believe these are all statues of Paragons, the most venerated members of dwarven society," Wynne said. "They are magnificent carvings."

"They worship their ancestors, or close enough, if you can believe it," Zevran added. "The placing of this hall is quite clever. The first thing that outsiders see is the pinnacle of dwarven culture, while those leaving are reminded of what they're going to be missing out on."

"Fascinating," Morrigan said without interest; in fact, she seemed discomfited by the stone roof far above her head. "I didn't realize you were such a scholar."

"You never know when trivia will come in handy," said the elf with a wink.

The guards paid no attention to their chatter, herding them onwards.

.

It took them several hours to travel to the city itself, and Elizabeth was quite footsore by the end of it, after all the traveling she had done to get to the head of the mountain. She wondered how the dwarves tracked time without the sun or moon to guide them. The broad road sloped gently downwards, lit by torches at regular intervals, but it was getting colder the further down they went.

At last they reached another great gate, this one with huge gears and mechanical parts and decorated with golden engravings, but it stood open. "Welcome to Orzammar," said one of their guides grandly, and as they entered the gate, Elizabeth stared.

The city was built around a massive natural cavern in the heart of the mountain. Below its centre lay a large pool of lava; the air was much warmer here.

"I suppose that building the city in the middle of a pool of molten rock saves invaders the trouble of burning it," Sten commented. "How do such small people build so tall? They must own an impressive array of ladders."

"It does seem an accident waiting to happen," Wynne agreed.

"We'll leave you here," one of their guards said. "To get to the Royal Palace and the Chamber of Assembly, turn right and follow the road to the upper level. They're well marked, you can't miss them."

"I suggest you go now," said the other guard. "It might have been a long day for you outsiders, but Orzammar runs without ceasing and the sooner you declare your presence to the deshyrs, the better it will be for you. Fare well."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said politely, and was interrupted by a shout.

In the middle of the road ahead of them, two groups of dwarves had met and were now nose to nose. "It's the Assembly who makes a king, and the king chooses his successor! The right to rule is not carried in the blood!"

"Well that's certainly different from the surface," Alistair muttered to Elizabeth. "Do you think the Landsmeet would do that for me?"

"And what about when someone uses the Assembly to create a coup?" shouted the other dwarf. "Who's to say what my father really said in his final hours when the usurper Harrowmont was the only one by his side!?"

"Stand down!" shouted another dwarf. "Prince Bhelen, control yourself! This is no time for a riot!"

"You will not speak that way to the man who should be king!" said a dwarf beside the prince, and drew his sword, rushing the dwarf who had just spoken. Elizabeth winced as the unfortunate one was run through before he could draw his sword.

There was a whistle, and guards came running from every direction – but the prince had already gone. The city guards shook their heads over the dead man, and she heard one of them say "Should just toss both Bhelen and Harrowmont in the Proving – that'd sort this out in a hurry." One of them, a female guard, came over to them. "What are you surfacers doing here?"

"My friend and I are Grey Wardens, on our way to see the Assembly with our traveling companions," Elizabeth said. "I just arrived this minute."

"Sorry you had to see that," the guard said. "It's tough maintaining order with the stalemate going on. I'll escort you there."

"That does not happen often, does it?" Elizabeth asked. She knew little of the dwarves, but if they were this quarrelsome among themselves, that did not bode well for allying against the darkspawn.

"Of course not! See, that's why we don't like outsiders coming in. It's a very difficult time for us right now, but let a human see anything like this and they think that's all we are."

"Oh, surfacers are no different," Zevran said cheerfully. "Where I come from, such a thing is normal – even expected."

"I don't wish to go to Antiva if such a thing is expected," Elizabeth said. "What sort of civilized leader lets his followers murder in front of him?"

Zevran frowned, but the guard nodded. "A great many people agree with you, but… Bhelen is Endrin's son. A terrible burden for a father to have only Bhelen left of three fine sons… But he is popular among the younger crowd. He does have confidence and energy, and he has very progressive ideas about the caste system and foreign policy."

"And he gets things done, I suppose," Zevran said, and it sounded as if he approved.

"He didn't even let that other man draw a weapon," Elizabeth muttered. Her eyes met Zevran's, and he pouted slightly. She frowned in response and returned her attention to the view and the road ahead of her.

"What brings you to Orzammar?" the guard asked.

"I am a Grey Warden, gathering allies to fight the Blight," Elizabeth said.

The guard shook her head regretfully. "That explains why it's been so quiet down here – so quiet our warriors have to murder each other in the streets instead of the Proving Grounds. I fear there will be little aid for you in Orzammar, Warden. But if you would take my advice, go talk to Dulin Forender. He is Lord Harrowmont's aide."

"You side with Lord Harrowmont, then," Elizabeth said.

"He is a good man and a skilled general. King Endrin trusted him, chose him as successor, and he is a sensible, dutiful man not overly given over to displays of passion."

"I see," Elizabeth said. "I will have to learn more before I decide, but thank you for telling me. I have much to learn about dwarves in general."

The guard nodded. "Some less controversial advice, then: go to the Shaperate and ask the Shapers to tell you of our people. It will help you make an informed decision on who to ask for help. It's just down the road from the Assembly."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "I will do that at the earliest opportunity."

The Assembly was like two packs of roaring beasts when they entered into its circular hall. Death threats rang from the walls like bells echoing in a valley. Elizabeth almost shrank back from the vehemence and the volume. She had never been to a Ferelden Landsmeet, the only thing she could think of that would be similar, but her brother had described it to her – and it was a lot quieter than this, she was sure.

At length, a grey-bearded dwarf in rich clothing stepped into the centre of the room and told them to get out. As the lords and ladies sullenly filed out, he came to Elizabeth and her companions, muttering under his breath. "Sorry about that. Greetings, Grey Wardens. I am Steward Bandelor. Normally, these chambers are only open to the deshyrs, but you and your… companions are guests of state. I hope you can forgive our unrest. The loss of our king has hit us hard."

"I understand," Elizabeth said. "I understand similar things are happening in Ferelden with the loss of our own king."

"Is that so? I was under the impression you had a new king."

"It's complicated," Elizabeth said diplomatically, since Alistair was turning red.

"So it is here. Respect for the Grey Wardens is great, but you won't get a proper hearing from this lot until we have someone on the throne."

"Is there some way I can assist you?" Elizabeth asked.

Bandelor considered. "If you were to support one of the candidates, Bhelen or Harrowmont, that might just tip the scales. But both of them are slow to trust in these times, with good reason. What was your name? The guards mentioned it but it has slipped my mind."

"Ah… I am Elizabeth. And this is Alistair, my fellow Warden." She was embarrassed she had forgotten to introduce herself. "Did you have any advice on who I should choose?"

Bandelor hesitated, then shook his head. "I am required to be completely impartial. My advice would be to go to the Shaperate and learn about your options there."

"A few more questions… where might we stay while we are here?"

"Tapster's Tavern usually has a few rooms open. Don't get a lot of surfacers here, so they're mostly used by folks in the doghouse, but I'm sure they'll do for you."

"Thank you for your time," Elizabeth said politely.

"Good luck, Warden."

.

She and the others were tired, so they first went to Tapster's Tavern to find lodging and get some rest. It was on the lower level of Orzammar, and it reeked of alcohol even from a distance, and the sound that came from it was described by Shale as "someone getting murdered and hopefully not just singing". Elizabeth began to feel rather dubious about Orzammar as a whole if this was the only place they could find to sleep at.

"I once drank a thimbleful of dwarven ale and ended up in Jader a week later in nothing but a towel and my shoes," Leliana told her, and Elizabeth resolved never to touch alcohol while she was underground.

"I've heard it's quite potent," Wynne said. "I've actually always wanted to try some. But not tonight, I think."

"I tried it once," Alistair said to her. "I thought it was just something they tricked surfacers into drinking, as a joke."

Morrigan gave a shudder. "Just don't buy anything. Or touch anything. Or… sit anywhere."

The men inside the bar stared at them, but mostly at Morrigan and Leliana and her, and she was glad when she was shown some stairs to an upper level, where the noise was at least halved. The rooms were not the cleanest, and they had to pack everyone in four to a room, with Huan sharing Elizabeth's bed, but it was a place to rest and at least try to sleep. She slept in her clothes, and placed her bedroll on the cot, rather than trust to sleeping on it directly.

She had no idea what time it was when she woke, but the others were waking as well. They met outside the tavern, bought some breakfast from a street vendor, and made their way back to the Diamond Quarter so Elizabeth could visit the Shaperate. She was a little surprised that everyone wanted to come with her, but they all had their own reasons for wanting to learn more about the dwarves – Alistair considered it his duty as the other Grey Warden, Leliana hoped to pick up stories, Shale hoped to hear something that might jog a memory, and Zevran claimed he was just there to keep an eye on the dog.

She had almost decided already to go to Lord Harrowmont for help, but what she learned in the Shaperate confirmed her decision. Besides many things about dwarven culture, such as the caste system, or the veneration of the Stone, or the fact that there was only one living Paragon, a woman named Branka who had been missing for two years, she heard rumours that Bhelen had killed one of his brothers and had let his other brother take the blame for it. That was not the sort of man she wanted to be dealing with as an ally, even if he seemed like he would be happy to treat with Ferelden and eager to fight the Blight. That was the problem, really – he was ready to fight anything and everything. It was true he spoke against the dwarven caste system, where Elizabeth cautiously agreed with him, but she did not trust what else she heard of him.

So she walked right by the Royal Palace and to the Harrowmont estate. The guards there escorted them into a large but comfortable antechamber, where they were met by a well-dressed dwarf. He bowed to them. "I heard there was a pair of Grey Wardens in Orzammar. I am Dulin Forender, second to Lord Pyral Harrowmont, King Endrin's own choice as successor. Word is spreading that the surface may be suffering a Blight. It's shameful that we are not in a better position to help."

"I have a treaty between the dwarves and the Grey Wardens," Elizabeth said. "But I understand the Assembly will not listen to me until they have a king to keep them in order."

Dulin snorted with resigned amusement. "That's a fact. If you have come to Harrowmont for more direct aid, he has his hands full just keeping up with Bhelen in the Assembly. I'm afraid he won't be seeing you today; he cannot trust anyone of unproven loyalty."

"I understand. I have been at the Shaperate," Elizabeth said. "I would give my support to Harrowmont."

"Of course you would," Morrigan muttered.

"If you can prove you have no love for Bhelen, I will speak with Harrowmont and we will see what we can do about getting you a proper audience," Dulin said. "Bhelen is hosting a Proving today, supposedly in memory of his father. You know what a Proving is, yes?"

"Trial by combat, essentially," Elizabeth answered.

"I don't know what they think they have to prove," Shale grumbled. "They're all soft, squishy things that are going to die sooner or later."

Dulin gave the golem a surprised look but continued. "It's a rough definition but it will do. The deshyrs take it very seriously. However, somehow Bhelen has blackmailed or intimidated Harrowmont's best fighters into withdrawing. If you could find out how, and convince them to fight again, that would be a big help. Better yet, you could fight in the Proving yourself."

"I'll do that," Alistair said. "I'm pretty good at fighting! And I'm a Grey Warden too, I want to help."

Elizabeth looked at him and he nodded firmly. She turned back to Dulin. "Alistair will join the Proving, then, as a Grey Warden. And we dedicate our victories to Harrowmont?"

"It would certainly make your loyalties loud and clear," Dulin said.

Zevran laughed in disbelief. "And this is to be your king, then. One who cannot keep his own men from running like frightened children."

"Lord Harrowmont does not use threats or intimidation to motivate his men," Dulin said gruffly. "He leads by example."

"Ah," Zevran said. "Ah, I see. So it's his example they follow, then, as they cower from this Prince Bhelen." He turned to Elizabeth. "Why should we ally ourselves with someone too scared even to grant us an audience?"

"How dare you slander Lord Harrowmont!?" Dulin exploded, his hands clenching into fists and his teeth grinding.

Elizabeth swallowed. Zevran might cost her this ally. "And what if you were in his place?" she asked, glaring at Zevran, willing him to shut up until they were out of the Harrowmont estate, at least.

It seemed her efforts at telepathy were in vain. "I suppose not everyone can face death as undaunted as an Antivan, it's true. Were I you, I would seek a stronger king than this Harrowmont."

"Surely you don't mean Bhelen," Dulin muttered. "You think he would meet with you unproven either?"

"I have made my decision," Elizabeth said firmly. "Alistair and I will be supporting Harrowmont."

Zevran shrugged with feigned unconcern. "Meh, have it your way."

Dulin glanced angrily at the elf, but turned back to Elizabeth with much more calm than she would have expected. "If you win the majority of the matches at the Proving, Bhelen will have nothing to do with you for humiliating him. Harrowmont will have no problem meeting with you then."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "I hope to bring you good news."

"Just go down to the Proving grounds and speak to the Proving Master. Ask to be put on Harrowmont's roster. I will meet you at Tapster's Tavern afterwards if you succeed. And don't forget about finding out about the other fighters. Their names are Gwiddon and Baizyl."

With that they were dismissed, and they were escorted out of the estate. Elizabeth grew angrier with every step. What had possessed Zevran to speak out so publicly? Normally he didn't care what she decided, that was what he had told her. What was his problem?

It was true, if she thought about it, that her father for one would have met with any foreign dignitaries, even if they were suspected of being assassins, and the dwarves she had met sounded like he respected Grey Wardens almost as much as her father had. So she was confused about Harrowmont's reticence. However, the dwarves were not humans, and she couldn't pass judgement on a people she didn't know.

She wanted to send Zevran on an errand to get him away from her, but there were no errands to run here in Orzammar. So she simply ignored him, and he dropped to the back of the group and ignored her.

.

Between Leliana and Sten, the missing fighters were convinced to rejoin the Proving, and Alistair acquitted himself well in the fights. She wished she could enjoy watching him more, and that she could revel in the roar of the crowd every time the fight commentator announced "The Grey Warden Alistair!" had won, but she was still upset. It irked her.

Dulin met them in the tavern, and after congratulating Alistair, arranged a meeting for the morrow for them and left.

Elizabeth was not comfortable in the tavern, not at all. She had been in a couple taverns in her life, but always with her family, and the Red Trout in Highever castle town was nowhere near as rowdy as this place. Here, half the patrons were slobbering, falling-down drunk sots, male and female. But the men looked at her in a way that made her uncomfortable, in a way that made her want to don her father's old massive ceremonial armour and close the helmet so that not an inch of her could be seen. Their stares told her that they didn't care that she was not a dwarf, only that she was female. And Leliana and Morrigan and even Wynne were subject to the same scrutiny.

She was very glad that Alistair and Huan stayed protectively close to her, and Sten was near enough as well that no one dared touch them. Zevran had disappeared, probably sensing the ire that had radiated off her all afternoon. Shale had already gone upstairs, having no wish to mingle with the other bar patrons while they met with Dulin.

She was heading for the stairs when an especially tipsy dwarf with a bright red shock of hair staggered into her, spilling his black ale everywhere, including all over her boots. He hiccoughed. "Hm. 'Scuse me. Hey, you're those Grey Wardens, coming from the surface and all. Looking for help or somethin'." His voice was incredibly gravelly and quite deep. "People saying you've thrown yourself on Harrowmont's wagon train."

"And what if we have?" Elizabeth asked sharply, not impressed with this individual and worried it might be an assassin from Bhelen. Alistair moved as if to block her, but the dwarf held up a pacifying hand.

"Nothin', just figured you'd be the one, you know, to help me find Branka. But I guess you're just like all the rest." He staggered over to the wall and downed the rest of his mug of ale. The name Branka sounded familiar somehow, but she couldn't quite place it yet.

"The rest of whom?" she inquired.

"Power-hungry deep-lords. The only real concern they have is whose ass gets the throne. Y'don't have to play dumb, Warden. Their lackeys come to me only when they want something. Well, if you want the secrets of a Paragon, you do the work and find her. Lost in the Deep Roads for two years! And no one's raised a bleedin' army to go find her yet. And now with the succession, suddenly everyone wants to start lookin'."

Aha! Branka was the living but vanished Paragon she had learned about. "I'm afraid it's none of my business. I've only just arrived in Orzammar. Please excuse me."

She left the drunk mumbling to himself about "secrets of lost technology", blaming both Harrowmont and Bhelen for his woes, and how no one treated him with the respect he deserved.

Zevran was leaning casually against the wall at the top of the stairs, apparently not caring about the grime it would leave on his leather armour. "Elizabeth."

She took a deep, irritated breath, and let Alistair pass her to get to his room, leaving the hall clear for them. "Don't do that again."

"Do what again?"

"You know what. It's hard enough navigating foreign relations without insulting everyone without you sticking your spoke in and doing it on purpose."

Zevran swung away from the wall to look her in the eyes, hands on his hips. "And what if I thought you were making a mistake, hmm? What would you like me to do?"

"You could have asked for a word in private! It's called using discretion and tact! Or did they not teach you that either?"

His golden eyes flickered. "To go with my lack of family, you mean?"

That hadn't been what she meant to imply, and her chest clenched briefly. "I didn't… I meant your general lack of social graces! And of course you'd support Bhelen, you both like killing things."

"You've learned to like killing things too, my dear," he mocked her.

"Oh, be thankful I'm not sending you away entirely," she hissed, her hands clenching.

His eyes narrowed. "Hold grudges much? Once crossed, you're done? You're as bad as any Crow Master."

Her heart was thudding in her chest and she was trembling in anger. "Get out of my way. I'm not speaking to you." She stormed past him, letting her shoulder knock him aside forcefully, and swaggered like a teyrn to her own room, where she slammed the door hard enough to rattle its dwarf-made hinges.

She tried to ignore the regret she'd seen in his eyes after she had begun to move.

.

Over the next few days, he kept his distance, trailing the group in a semi-invisible fashion as they did various errands to cement Harrowmont's small advantage. They were sent all over the city, and everyone knew who the humans were. Some tried to take advantage of them, some tried to flatter them, and some tried to kill them outright. When the last happened, Zevran would appear, striking their enemies in the back, before disappearing again. She had the vague idea that he was somehow traveling on the rooftops.

Harrowmont gave them lodging at his estate, at least, which was far more comfortable than the tavern's dingy rooms, where everything was clean, they each got a room to themselves, and the beds were deep and fluffy. Even so, it was about four days before he met them again. "I thank you all for your work the last few days. Bhelen has been spinning a great deal of propaganda to put both you and me down, but that only shows we are making progress. There is another thing that I want to ask your help on. It is dangerous, and quite possibly hopeless, so you are free to refuse."

"I understand," Elizabeth said.

"Do you know of a Paragon named Branka?"

Elizabeth sat up straighter in her seat. "A little. She developed a smokeless coal that increased production while being safer for smiths, and that was the achievement that elevated her to Paragon and formed House Branka. She disappeared two years ago with her entire house into the Deep Roads, searching for lost dwarven secrets, and no trace has been found of her."

"Also her husband is a sad drunk who frequents Tapster's far too often," Alistair put in.

"All too true, all of it," Harrowmont said, shaking his head. "But she is Orzammar's only Paragon. Were she to return and endorse someone for the throne, the Assembly would be honour-bound to accept her decision."

"It's been two years, though," Alistair said. "I know the Deep Roads are actually safer to travel during a Blight, but the Blight only started a few months ago. Is she really still alive?"

"No one knows," Harrowmont replied. "She was traced to an ancient crossroads known as Caridin's Cross. Beyond that, we have not been able to go. Us mere mortals are not Paragon Branka."

"I see," Elizabeth said. "I am willing to go."

Harrowmont leaned forward. "That would be my request, but are you sure of that, Warden Elizabeth? I know I am asking a lot. It's deep within darkspawn territory, several days' journey, and she may be still farther in. I can offer you guards part of the way, but it's my opinion you would actually do better with a smaller force, since you'll be able to slip past the darkspawn more easily."

Elizabeth grimaced. "I understand it is terribly dangerous, but between my actions helping you and Bhelen's propaganda downplaying said actions, the stalemate is as strong as ever." She smiled wryly. "The Paragon must be found or else I shall go mad with waiting." She heard Alistair mutter "me too" and repressed a snort.

Harrowmont looked at her with respect. "You may have your own reasons, Warden Elizabeth, but you are a determined ally. If Branka can be found, and she chooses me as king, I will not forget this risk you take for me now. I have always respected Grey Wardens, especially Warden Duncan, and you live up to the best of them."

Elizabeth could just hear Zevran saying that there were a lot of 'ifs' in that statement, but she nodded. "Thank you, my lord."

Harrowmont stood and clapped his hands. "You shall be well equipped, at least, and you shall have a guard to Caridin's Cross, and you shall have what maps we can scrape together. How soon can you be ready?"

Elizabeth looked at Alistair, who glanced at her before answering. "Half an hour at the earliest."

"That will be fine. Prepare yourselves, and I shall see you off."

.

They were met at the entrance to the Deep Roads by a vaguely familiar shock of red hair. Branka's husband was waiting for them, dressed in heavy plate armour and carrying a huge axe. "Well, well, look who finally got their act together."

"Be off with you," said Harrowmont's captain, who was Gwiddon from the Proving matches a few days ago. "You're not wanted on this expedition, Oghren."

Oghren leered. "I beg to differ. If you want to find Branka, you're taking me along. You'll never get anywhere, otherwise. A bunch of surfacers, hah! You'll be chasing your asses all sodding week." He turned to Elizabeth and Alistair. "I'm Oghren. I remember you. I don't know if you remember me. People seem to have a habit of forgetting me these days. Or ignoring, I forget which." Well, Elizabeth mused, her boots remembered him, certainly. She had spent two hours trying to get the sticky ale off them, and they were still discoloured from it. Not that they weren't already discoloured from a hundred other things, but she hadn't required dwarven ale as well.

"He killed a man for suggesting Branka was dead," Gwiddon told them. "He was drunk at the time, of course. He was barred from bearing weapons within the city." He turned to the other dwarf. "What are you doing here?"

"Not everyone hates me, Gwiddon," Oghren said. "I have enough friends who let me know if anyone's thinking of looking for Branka. Knew you'd get off your arse sooner or later and get around to it. Now, I know you found her camp at Caridin's Cross. But you didn't find her, and that means that whatever you think you have, it's not enough if you don't know what she was looking for."

Gwiddon looked down his nose at Oghren. "And you do?"

"I didn't spend two sodding years married to the woman without learning a thing or two. So either you take me along and we pool what we've got, or good sodding luck finding any more trace of her."

Gwiddon looked helplessly at the Wardens. "What do you suggest?"

Elizabeth looked at Oghren. He was difficult to read – all dwarves were, to her. He stared back, mouth turned down in a frown under his long red moustache. She looked at Alistair, who shrugged.

"He's probably harmless – to us," he said.

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "You may come." They would probably benefit greatly from having a dwarf around, even if Oghren didn't seem quite as mentally sound as some of the others she had been interacting with.

Oghren nodded firmly. "All right. Your first clue is that she was looking for the Anvil of the Void, used for making golems centuries ago. Lost centuries ago, too. Paragon Caridin built it, and gave Orzammar a hundred years of peace with it. She was a little bit cracked about it, but if it's there to be found, she's probably found it. She had three hundred members of what used to be House Kondrat with her, too. She's not dead."

"The Anvil is said to be in the old Ortan Thaig, lost for five hundred years," Gwiddon said. "That's past where we're supposed to take you. I'm not even sure it's on the map."

"That's fine," Elizabeth said. "Take us as far as you can, and Oghren will take us the rest of the way."

"That's what I'm worried about," Gwiddon muttered.

"Come on," Oghren said. "Branka's not going to sodding find herself. Let's introduce ourselves on the way, shall we?"

When everyone else had greeted Oghren and been met by a typical crude comment, Zevran materialized out of the gloom where he had been lurking, as had become his habit over the last few days. "Hello, my new stocky little friend!"

Oghren looked him up and down. "Huh. You got small breasts for a gal." Zevran didn't react at all; Elizabeth wondered if he'd heard that many times before.

"Are we supposed to now engage in some sort of archetypical elf-dwarf banter, my friend?"

Oghren scratched his bottom. "Nah. But what are you doing, trailing this lot in the shadows like some kind of love-sick nug-licker?"

Zevran looked confused – and a little offended. "I'm only trying to be out of the way."

She interrupted him. "It's going to be too dangerous to do that in the Deep Roads. Get back in the group and stop being dramatic."

He looked closely at her. "Are you sure?"

"It's fine," she said shortly, and turned away to lead them into the depths.

.

Oghren was much better company than he had been in the bar a few days before, although she wasn't sure that he wasn't still drunk. He stank like a brewery – like several breweries, actually, each producing a different strong-smelling alcohol – and she was sure that every creature in a kilometre radius was aware of their passing. But he was at least semi-sober, and despite his gruffness, and the lack of higher learning, and the frequent crudeness and inappropriateness that made Zevran's innuendo look saintly, he was actually rather kind.

They came to Caridin's Cross, where Gwiddon and Harrowmont's soldiers left them, and from then on they followed Oghren's guesses into the Deep Roads – what choice did they have? He knew the woman they were looking for better than anyone, and after they found remains of a second dwarf camp with evidence of House Branka at Ortan Thaig, they did not question him.

Shale was very attentive to their surroundings, and sometimes would hum to itself in satisfaction or interest. She wondered if Shale was remembering anything, but the golem wasn't forthcoming at that time.

The Deep Roads were mysterious and awe-inspiring, and Elizabeth found it a fascinating if physically uncomfortable journey. They traveled through long, straight highways that were still lit by magical torches or by engineered lava streams, finding caves that opened onto incredible caverns, vast and filled with incredible rock formations. Sometimes they came across trickles of water or underground rivers cascading down unfathomable cliffs next to the path, or they had to defend themselves against underground beasts Elizabeth had never seen before; Oghren called the large, oxen-like ones brontos and the small, lithe ones deepstalkers. Some tunnels looked as if they had been burrowed or even nibbled, and Elizabeth wondered what creatures must have caused that.

But other than that and the sounds of their footsteps, it was silent, and often cold. Almost everywhere there were signs of dwarf construction. They gleamed still in the light of their torches, but no lights shone from their windows. They were old, so old, and beautiful, and sad, these abandoned cities and palaces and causeways of stone, frozen in time and forgotten.

And there were darkspawn, too. They left traces of destruction and filth and crude, tribal totems wherever they went. Wynne compared them to the leftovers of the demon invasion of the Circle Tower, and wondered if they were related. They were tough, too, seemingly tougher than they had been above ground, and Elizabeth was thankful now for Oghren's reckless axe.

They had passed Ortan Thaig a day ago; Elizabeth had no idea which direction they were going in, although the map suggested they were heading west.

"The Dead Marches are coming up," Oghren told them. "Past that is the fortress of Bownammar. Heh. Bone hammer. Heheh." He chuckled to himself lewdly and went on. "We'll want to be extra careful here. That's where the Legion of the Dead hang out, and there's always a lot of darkspawn action wherever the Legion goes." They turned a corner in the tunnel they were traveling through, and emerged into an immensely long and tall cavern. A deep rift sliced through it, bearing north-south. A single bridge spanned the gap, held by massive steel supports. A diffuse light came from some unknown source, illuminating everything enough that they would not need torches to cross this cavern. "Pretty impressive, huh? We did some good things, back in the day."

At that moment, Elizabeth was seized by a wave of revulsion, and Alistair staggered. "W-what's going on…?"

"Back!" Alistair cried. "Everyone get back in the tunnel! Dowse the lights! Hide!"

"What's the rush-" Leliana began, but Alistair was herding everyone frantically into the tunnel with large gestures of his arms.

They had just gotten back around the corner when there was an unearthly roar and something _whooshed_ past in the cavern beyond. Elizabeth crept to look out, and Alistair joined her.

A gigantic dragon, larger than the fabled High dragons, armoured with black and purple scales and crowned with horns, had landed on the bridge. Its red wings were still spread majestically. She only had to glance at it to know: this was the Archdemon, the tainted god Urthemiel. It bared its fearsome teeth and roared, and there were words in that roar, if only she knew how to listen. She didn't want to know how to listen. She covered her ears with her hands and sank into a crouch. And they had to defeat this monster? How would they ever do that, even with all their armies?

She became aware of Alistair shaking her shoulder and Huan nuzzling her face on the other side. "It's gone, Elizabeth! It flew away. We have to get across now, before it comes back."

"Do you think it felt us?" she asked with trembling lips. "I felt it. I can feel the thousands of darkspawn marching below us. We're doomed, aren't we?"

Alistair forced a smile onto his face. "Well, don't say such things yet. It probably knows we're around somewhere, but I don't think it could feel us like we can feel it. It's so much more powerful than we are, we'd be beneath its notice. Come on, let's cross while we can."

She noticed he hadn't really answered her other question, but let him drag her to her feet and then they all made a mad dash for the bridge.

The ruins of Bownammar were filled with darkspawn. Genlocks, hurlocks, ogres, even a few shrieks prowled there, and though they tried to go quietly, there was always battle awaiting them around the corner. Fortunately, some of the dwarf Legion of the Dead were there as well, and offered them aid. They rested a night with them before continuing.

.

.

Bownammar was just behind them; countless leagues of lightless, darkspawn-filthed tunnels stretched ahead. And Elizabeth was hearing things.

Whispers, it seemed, as if the dead were speaking to her from the stones themselves. She said nothing to the others about it, but it seemed as if they were hearing it as well. She saw one or another occasionally stop and frown at the wall or the air, trying to focus on something just out of reach.

As they marched onwards, the whispers grew clearer until they became the voice of a woman, muttering over and over a set of lines that turned Elizabeth's blood to ice and gave her a cold sweat.

" _First day, they come and catch everyone._  
 _Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat._  
 _Third day, the men are all gnawed on again._  
 _Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate._  
 _Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn._  
 _Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams._  
 _Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew._  
 _Eighth day, we hated as she is violated._  
 _Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin._  
 _Now she does feast, as she's become the beast._  
 _Now you lie and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams."_

Elizabeth rounded a corner and saw horror. A dwarf woman, clad in rags that might once have been a proud uniform, was scratching in the corner of a cave at darkspawn refuse for things to eat. As Elizabeth stepped out of the corridor towards her, she rose and turned towards them with uncontrolled, jerky movements. She lifted her face towards them and Elizabeth almost drew back a pace. Her skin was pale, almost grey, with dark grey blotches spread across it. Her eyes were sunken and feverish. Even though it was cold, there was a faint sheen of sweat across her skin.

"What is this?" she said, looking across them all, though her eyes seemed not to see them. "A bunch of humans? Bland and unlikely. Feeding time brings only kin and clan." She sighed heavily. "I am cruel to myself. You are a dream of strangers' faces and open doors."

"We shouldn't stay here," Morrigan said in a low voice to Elizabeth. "I have a feeling the darkspawn will return here."

"Hespith?" Oghren asked. "Hespith, is that… you?"

"Oghren… you were the lucky one, to be left behind…"

"Don't say that," Oghren said gruffly. "I've spent these two years drinking myself stupider over you all. What's happened to you?"

"The Stone has punished me, dream-Oghren. I am dying of something worse than death. Betrayal. All I could do was wish that Laryn went first. I wished it on her so that I would be spared. But no one is spared, and I will go the same way soon. And I had to watch. I saw the change. How do you endure seeing that?" Her voice sank to a hoarse whisper. "How did Branka endure?"

"Branka!" Oghren cried. "Where is she?"

"D-do not talk to me of Branka!" cried Hespith, her head lolling wildly. "She became obsessed, that is the word but it is not strong enough. Blessed Stone, there was nothing left in her but the Anvil. Do not talk of what she did! Ancestors preserve us, forgive me. I was her captain and did not stop her. I was her lover, and could not turn her. Forgive her… but no. She cannot be forgiven. Not for what she did. Not for what she has become. And the true crime was not that it happened but that it was permitted."

Oghren reached out to the woman. "What has she done, Hespith?"

"I will not speak of her!" Hespith cried, pulling back. "Of what she did, of what we have become! I will not turn! I will not become Laryn! Not Branka!" She turned, and before Oghren could stop her, tottered quickly into a crack in the wall and vanished.

Oghren turned to Elizabeth. "Whaddya suppose that was all about? Hespith used to be a sturdy, upright sort of gal. My cousin, but better than me, obviously."

"I think she was sick," Elizabeth said.

"Well anyone with half an eye could tell you that."

"I guess there is a lot more here than we might have thought," she said. "Let's hurry if we can, to find out how and why she was like that."

After a few minutes, Hespith's whisperings began again from some nearby tunnel, but try as they might, they could not find her. Her voice accompanied them as they found their way to a massive locked door guarded by ogres, and teased at their ears as they fought, and only faded away when they took the key from one of the ogres and unlocked the door.

The corridor before them had been dwarf-made at some point in its history, but it was blocked and the only way forward was a slick round passage that looked like it had been dissolved out of the surrounding stone. Elizabeth was beginning to feel ill, but she pressed on gamely. She gestured for them to slow when she heard movement ahead, and carefully peeked around the corner.

She fell back against the disgusting wall, breathing hard and trying not to either cry or vomit. Some horrid bloated creature rested in the chamber ahead, two stories tall and as large around as a windmill. She had a vague impression of a multitude of huge drooping breasts and a tiny squashed face at the top of it all, and gently waving tentacles protruding from the bottom of the creature.

"That was Laryn, now… broodmother," said Hespith's voice, and Elizabeth gagged. Alistair took his own peek around the corner and dropped back, resting a hand on her shoulder. She was sure he was trying to comfort her, but his hand was trembling.

"Do we fight that?" Alistair asked. "Is there no other way around?"

"We must fight it," Elizabeth said. "It is some horrific evil of the darkspawn and must be destroyed."

Sten hefted his weapon. "I am ready."

"I don't understand why it is so upset," Shale said. "It looks like the squishiest thing we've come across yet. This will be an easy fight."

Elizabeth got to her feet, choking back bile. "You are right. Shale, you're in the lead. We'll keep everything else from getting to you."

Shale grinned. "I was wondering if it would ever see sense."

They charged into the following room, Shale in the lead. Before they were halfway across, the tentacles snaked out towards them, knocking Sten, Leliana, and Morrigan off balance. As Shale reached the belly of the beast and wound up for a powerful punch, dozens of genlocks scurried out of crevices in the walls, some of them armed and armoured, some of them only armed with their teeth and claws and naked as a baby.

She felt like screaming but swallowed it, channeled it into her sword arm, and struck out all the harder. A blow caught her across the back but her new armour held, though she bit her lip by accident and felt blood run down to her chin. There were too many genlocks for them to all fight… Leliana and Morrigan and Wynne would be in trouble. But even as she tried to fight to them, Wynne cast some sort of protective spell that seemed to dull the weapons of the darkspawn, and Morrigan cast a bolt of lightning that spread from one genlock to another, incapacitating them temporarily if it didn't kill them outright. Zevran was slipping through the fight like water through stones, and she didn't need to warn him not to get bogged down. Huan was not doing as well as the elf, but he kept close by her side.

Shale was still pounding both fists into the broodmother, but getting wrapped in more and more tentacles. The broodmother was oozing from the wounds in her front, rather than bleeding, and was dragging Shale slowly away from herself with brute force. Elizabeth sprang up, letting Alistair and Oghren deal with the genlocks for a while, and hacked at the tentacles. She got two of them before a third wrapped around her waist and sent her flying away. She crashed into the wall, and was half-dazed for a moment, a moment too long as genlocks came rushing at her. She raised her shield to cover her face and felt a rush of heat as one of the mages cast a fireball at them.

She sprang to her feet again to meet another charge from the genlocks, almost abandoning her training to hack away at their numbers. Shale was tearing the broodmother apart now, and soon ripped its head off. The genlocks saw it and fled.

Hespith appeared on a ledge halfway up the wall. She looked even more sick than the last time they had seen her, and before they could react, she wavered and fell. There was a sickening cruch, and Elizabeth cringed.

"Morrigan," she said in a low voice, trying to catch her breath, "remember when you said the darkspawn were dragging people below-ground after Ostagar?"

"Yes…?" Morrigan's tone indicated she had caught on to Elizabeth's thought.

"Were they mostly female?"

"They were only female," Morrigan said, and Elizabeth nodded.

She turned to Alistair. "Did the Wardens know about this at all?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea. I certainly never knew about it. But like I said, there weren't a lot of women in the Ferelden Grey Wardens – I mean, any – so maybe we just never talked about it."

"I think it should be talked about," Elizabeth said. "No one should have to suffer that fate again."

Oghren returned from where Hespith had fallen. "Poor Hespith. But she's returned to the Stone now. She won't be turning into anything." He sighed heavily. "She was a good lass, even if she was a bit too fond of Branka… before. What is Branka sodding doing that she'd let her own end up like that?"

Elizabeth avoided looking at the splattered remains of the broodmother blob and turned towards the far side of the cave. "Let's continue. I can't stand being here a moment longer."

"Right with you," Leliana said, equally eager to be gone.

.

They dared not rest as they pressed onwards. The great vistas were gone now, and only narrow winding tunnels remained. They were not ambushed by darkspawn as often as before. Elizabeth was now more aware of her 'darkspawn sense', but it was now overreacting and she couldn't tell where there were small groups in wait for them.

They came across a crude barricade of iron and stone barring the passage. As they approached it, there was a sudden rumble, and they turned to see the passage behind them blocked by another gate of iron. It looked like they would have a difficult time forcing it back open, even with Shale's strength.

"What the bleedin' hell…" Oghren began.

"Oghren," said the voice of a dwarf woman. "I suppose it was only inevitable you would eventually drag your worthless carcass out here. Hopefully you can find your way back more easily." A sturdy woman with brown hair pushed out part of the barricade and stepped into the corridor. She surveyed them with a supremely unimpressed look. Huan's ears went back at the sight of her.

Oghren gave a great shout of laughter. "Well shave my back and call me an elf! Branka, by the Stone, I hardly recognized you!"

Branka ignored him, speaking to the others. "After all this time, my patience for social graces has worn very thin. That doesn't bother you, I hope. How shall I address you lot? Are you the latest hired swords from some lordling looking for my power? Or just the ones who didn't mind Oghren's ale breath? Odd that you're not dwarves… I suppose things must have been happening while I was busy."

"Be respectful, woman!" Oghren said. "You're talking to a couple of genuine Grey Wardens, here! And their trusted companions."

"So an important bunch of errand boys, then," Branka said disdainfully. She had still not stepped back to allow them passage to the cave beyond. "Is Endrin dead? That seems most likely. He was always on the old and wheezy side."

"Lady Branka," Elizabeth began, "I am Elizabeth and this is my fellow Warden Alistair. You are correct in your assumption. King Endrin is dead, and Prince Bhelen and Lord Harrowmont are locked in stalemate in the Assembly for succession. I've come to ask you to return and tell the Assembly to make up their minds. My country, Ferelden, is assailed by a blight and I need an alliance with the king, any king."

"Oh ancestors preserve me, you're one of the worst kind," Branka sighed. "Call me lady again and I'll punch you in the piehole. A king won't stop the Blight. We've had forty generations of kings and nothing to show for it. I don't care if the Assembly puts a drunken monkey on the throne."

"So you vote for me being king then?" Oghren teased.

Branka ignored him again. "I don't care because our protector, our greatest invention, that which made our armies the envy of the world, is lost to the very darkspawn it should be fighting. It forged the golems that held off the very first Archdemon to rise, and it's here. It's so close I can taste it. You'll forgive me for not giving a bat's ass about trivial things like thrones when we could take this and reclaim every part of our lost kingdoms!"

Elizabeth watched her warily. She had not gotten over the previous battle, and hearing that somehow it was Branka's fault gave her pause. "So what is in your way? You had three hundred members of House Branka with you. What has happened to them?"

"Excellent question," grunted Oghren.

"Caridin was the one who forged the Anvil," Branka said. "But at some point, apparently, he decided it should not be used or something, so he built a bunch of traps in front of it. Golem guards, poison gas, even binding wandering Stone spirits. But I've given up everything and would sacrifice anything to get to that Anvil."

"Even Hespith?" Oghren asked heavily. "We met her, Branka. She killed herself. She was… something was done to her."

"Hespith is not important," Branka said. "Only the Anvil has lasting meaning." Finally, she stepped back. "There is only one way out, Wardens. You must go forward and defeat the remaining traps for me."

"What has this place done to you?" Oghren roared. "I remember marrying a girl you could talk to for one minute and see her brilliance."

Branka stared at him coldly. "I am your Paragon." She turned and walked back into the cave, and the others followed. What choice did they have?

.

There were more barricades in the low cave, and Branka had ensconced herself behind one. Looking around, Elizabeth saw that this place had at one point been a dwarven camp, but now it had been trampled. Bodies of both dwarves and darkspawn lay scattered across the floor in varying states of decomposition, and Elizabeth wrinkled her nose in distaste.

Oghren looked distraught. "You really have destroyed your House, haven't you? You had three hundred good folk of what was once House Kondrat. Did they all die fighting those sodding traps and the sodding darkspawn at the same time?"

Morrigan prodded the corpse of a genlock. "I suspect a great many of these came from that broodmother we destroyed. Care to finish the puzzle?"

Oghren's face crumpled in fury and grief. "You sold out your own people to the darkspawn!?"

"I did what was necessary," Branka answered from her haven, colder than ice. "The darkspawn were a good source of fodder for the traps. When they had completed the gauntlet, I would have shut off the tunnel and claimed my prize. But you're smarter than any darkspawn could hope to be, so this will be faster."

Oghren shook his head – and his axe. "You've completely cracked, Branka. This won't stand."

"Less talking, more walking," Branka snapped.

Alistair looked at the tunnel ahead and squared his shoulders. "Come on. Standing around won't get us anywhere. We've got to try." They followed him into the maze.

"Heh. Good ol' Branka," said Oghren. "She's a bit, uh, abrasive, isn't she? Guess I forgot that part about her screeching in my ear every sodding day. Ah, well. We'll help her get the Anvil, and then she'll come home and everything will be better." Even Elizabeth could tell he didn't really believe that.

The first few chambers had been cleared; a few golems lay shattered on the ground and some other traps seemed to have been triggered and disabled. Beyond that, their troubles began. Elizabeth was already exhausted from the fight earlier that day, and when a new set of golems moved to attack them, she had to draw on desperate reserves of strength. But the worst was when they had to fight the ghosts of the Stone itself. They were wounded by her sword, certainly, but speed and cleverness were the keys to ensuring they didn't simply come back again. Zevran and Leliana shone here, and it almost seemed like they were competing.

That was the last test, and breathing hard, they entered a great chamber. A large rocky peninsula rose above a lake of lava, and great twists of lyrium broke through the ceiling and walls, bathing the chamber in glowing red and blue light. At the peak of the peninsula there was a great anvil, shimmering with an odd light.

At the foot of the slope, immediately in front of them, there were five golems: two of stone stood on each side, and one extra-large one made of steel in the back, facing them. Elizabeth approached carefully, but they made no sign that they would attack.

The steel golem stirred. "Greetings. I am Caridin. Once in the ancient past, I was a Paragon of Orzammar." His voice was deep but soothing, echoing slightly in the hollows of the steel frame.

"Caridin, a golem?" Shale muttered. "How extraordinary. I might get proper answers."

"That is a voice I recognize," said the golem. "Shayle, warrior of House Cadash, step forward."

"You know me?" Shale asked in surprise. "You must have made me. Did you give me my name?"

"You have forgotten then?" Caridin sighed. "It has been so long. I made you into the golem you are now, but once you were a dwarf, just as I was. You were the finest warrior to serve King Valtor, and the only woman to volunteer."

"Huh," Shale said. "Wait, I was a dwarf? A woman? One of these small little squishy things?"

Caridin nodded. "I laid you on the Anvil of the Void, here in this very chamber, and put you into the form that you now possess." He tilted his head at the stone golem. "Although you seem… smaller now, somehow."

"My previous master was a mage who decided to shrink me instead of making the doors in his house larger," Shale grumbled. "I was so glad when he met with a sticky end."

"You haven't changed a bit," Caridin said, amused.

"So the Anvil of the Void… that is it up there, correct?" Shale said. "A mad dwarf named Branka is seeking it. It sent us in here."

Caridin lowered his head; it made him look a bit like a bull about to charge. "If you are seeking the Anvil, then you must hear my story… or be doomed to repeat it in ignorance."

"I wouldn't mind hearing it," Shale said. "For instance, why are you still here if you are a golem? If you have your own autonomy, like I have, wouldn't you want to go out and do as you will?"

"Wait, you're autonomous?" Oghren asked, squinting at Shale.

Shale frowned at the dwarf. "A drunk _and_ stupid, I see. I have been autonomous ever since _it_ woke me up." She gestured at Elizabeth. "My control rod is broken. I choose to travel with it since I have nothing better to do other than crush pigeons."

Caridin sighed and shook his head. "I lived here to prevent the Anvil from ever being used again. Now, if you are at all swayed by my wishes, it never will be. You see, here I could forge a man of stone or steel, as mobile and clever as any soldier. As an army, they were nigh-invincible. But no one knew the cost except me. No mere smith, no matter how clever he may be, has the power to create life or even the semblance of it. To make my creations live, I had to take their lives from elsewhere."

"It sounds like blood magic," Wynne said.

He shook his head again in reminiscence. "It was a time when the darkspawn were threatening everything we knew. At first I only took volunteers – only the bravest of souls willing to give their very lives for the chance to defend their homeland. But King Valtor became greedy. He began to force the casteless, criminals, his political enemies… all were to be given to the Anvil. When eventually I protested, I ended up on the Anvil myself."

"But surely you have gained from it," Shale said. "To no longer be soft and easily damaged, to have power and strength and endurance… I have no memory of the dwarf you say I was, but I am quite content to be a golem. I am pleased with my current situation."

"You are a lucky one, Shayle," Caridin said. "Indeed, you are unique. I will not say that you do not have a point, only that I regret allowing it to happen to so many against their will, and that they were deprived of will after their transformation. After I was made a golem, I fortified this place and my closest servants and I have remained entombed here ever since, waiting for someone who might dare to reach me… and help me destroy the Anvil."

"Can you not do it yourself?" Alistair asked.

"No golem can touch it," Caridin answered. "Please… do not let rivers of blood flow in Orzammar again, for that is what will happen if this is returned to the minds and hands of the dwarves."

"I would like to help you," Elizabeth said. "I have no interest in the Anvil. What must be done?"

"What? No!" Branka stood at the entrance to the chamber, sword and shield in hand and a fierce fire blazing in her eyes. "It is mine! No one will take it from me! He's been stewing in his own madness for a thousand years. Help me defeat him, and you'll have an army to fight your Blight like you've never seen!"

"Branka, you mad, bleeding nug-tail!" Oghren growled. "Does this thing mean so much to you that you can't even see what you've lost to get it?"

"Look around!" Branka shouted back. "Is this what our empire should look like? A crumbling tunnel filled with darkspawn spume? The Anvil will let us take back our glory!"

"And fill it with what people?" Elizabeth cried, taking a step forward with clenched fist. "Your population is hardly enough to fill Orzammar! What is the point of sacrificing your own people to hold an empty kingdom?"

Branka gritted her teeth. "I would have thought you of all people would want to eliminate all the darkspawn, _Warden_!"

"I do, but not at the cost of more lives than necessary! Golems are marvellous creations, but that power – how do you not abuse that power!? How long before you end up in Caridin's place?"

"Your compassion shames me, Warden," Caridin said.

"You think anyone could do that to me against my will? Besides, maybe that's what I want!" Branka slammed the end of her axe against the ground. "Enough of this! Either you get out of my way or I kill every one of you!"

"You and what army?" Morrigan asked, coolly kindling fire in the palm of her hand with a sneer.

Branka spun her axe, and runes flared like sparks from it. For the first time, the golems around Caridin moved, while a blue translucent barrier sprang up around Caridin himself.

"She has trapped me!" Caridin cried. "I cannot help you! You must stop her!"

"Leave it to me," Oghren said grimly, brandishing his axe. Elizabeth stepped forward and was knocked to the ground by one of the golems. So Branka was controlling them! Suddenly the fight had gotten ten times harder. She didn't know if she had the energy to finish it. The golem was standing over her, and she was struggling to get to her feet, but she was going to get pummelled again.

There was a green and gold blur, and Zevran knocked her out of the way, taking the blow in her stead and collapsing with a cry of pain. Elizabeth felt anger surge through her, and attacked the golem's throat, the only point that could be considered remotely weak. Huan was behind it, scrabbling away with his claws, but she knew he wouldn't be able to do much.

Even with her newfound determination, she wouldn't be able to win at this. Shale was wrestling with another golem, Sten and Wynne were working on another one, and Oghren, Alistair, Morrigan, and Leliana were fighting Branka and the last golem. Perhaps if they defeated Branka the other golems would stop?

"Weak!" Shale growled, and punched clear through the other golem's torso. Elizabeth dodged a blow from her opponant and Shale tackled it, giving her time to grab Zevran from where he lay huddled in a pained bundle and drag him out of combat before jumping back in to help Shale and Huan.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Branka!" Oghren said, blocking his ex-wife's axe blows. "But you've gone too far, and someone's got to stop you!"

"You were always a simplistic fool when you were even slightly sober, Oghren!" Suddenly Branka choked and fell back, clawing at the arrow in her throat. The surviving golems froze in place.

Leliana slowly rose from her steady crouch. "…I'm sorry."

"Had to be done," Oghren said, bringing out his ubiquitous flask and taking an unsteady gulp from it. "Not blaming you, lass."

The barrier fell from around Caridin, and he stepped forward, kneeling over Branka's body. "Another life lost because of my invention… I wish no mention of it had made it into history."

Oghren wiped his nose. "You ain't kiddin'. Stupid woman! Always knew the Anvil would kill her."

"At least it all ends here," Caridin said heavily. "I thank you for standing with me, strangers. The Anvil waits for you to shatter it. Is there any way I can thank you for your assistance?"

"I do have a request," Elizabeth said. "There is a matter of succession in Orzammar, and the Assembly requires the word of a Paragon to break the stalemate. I had thought Branka might… but she had no interest in politics anyway."

"Nor do I," Caridin said. "I have no wish even to hear their names. I will make you a token and appoint you my voice in the Assembly. I will not be leaving this place."

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked. "Even if the Anvil is destroyed, surely you have many things to teach the others."

Caridin shook his head. "I have lived too long already, waiting for this day. My knowledge is unclean and must die with me."

"I see," Elizabeth said regretfully.

"Wait here but a while, and I shall forge you a crown worthy of the King of Orzammar," Caridin said, and his heavy tread shook the ground as he walked up towards the slope towards the Anvil.

They rested in various attitudes around the cave. Shale found a huge tablet with the names of all the dwarves who had been turned to golems, and with Wynne and Sten's help, made a rubbing of it. Wynne took it and declared her intention of giving it to the Shaperate. Shale also went and spoke a little to Caridin while he worked; he did not seem troubled by her presence. Elizabeth was still getting used to the idea that Shale had once been a dwarf woman. It seemed unbelievable. But her name was on the tablet with the rest of them.

Oghren knelt beside Branka, trying not to show his grief. None of them knew him very well so he was a little isolated among them. Leliana sat nearby, but not too nearby, humming a slow song, neither cheerful nor sad.

Morrigan perched on a rock, her head between her knees and a bored look on her face. Alistair leaned against the arch of the door, watching for darkspawn, though he knew there was no need. Zevran had flopped on the ground, nursing his side despite Wynne's healing.

Elizabeth awkwardly drew near him, and he gave her a half-hearted smirk. She crouched self-consciously beside him, unsure of what to do or say. She was glad he wasn't dead. And she had been behaving awfully towards him ever since they had fought, and he had protected her anyway, even if he had put himself in far more danger than she had been. She should apologize for how she had treated him. …But not here. Somewhere in private.

Caridin was busy around the Anvil for at least two hours, doing all of the work himself, and Morrigan had almost fallen asleep by the time he called Elizabeth. "It is done. Give it to whom you will." It was a dwarf helm, but made of gold. As she took it, she blinked in surprise, because it was shockingly light. The most detailed metalwork she had ever seen decorated its surfaces, and scarlet rubies glittered like dragonfire from its spires, but its true beauty was in its construction, even she could tell that.

"Thank you," she said with all her heart. "Shall I destroy the Anvil now?"

"That would please me," he said, and handed her the largest hammer from his collection. She put the helm on the ground and took it. She guessed it would take a long time to destroy such a large, strong, enchanted object with only the strength of her human arms, but lifted the hammer to begin.

Her first blow struck the Anvil in the centre, and there was an immense burst of light. She was flung backwards, and Caridin caught her before she could fall into the lava. The Anvil lay in gleaming fragments on the ground.

"Well done," Caridin said.

"B-but h-how…" she stammered.

"You had the intention to destroy it." He picked up the largest pieces and cast them into the lava. "You have my eternal thanks, Grey Warden. Atrast nal tunsha… may you always find your way in the dark." Without hesitation, he himself stepped from the brink and was swallowed up by the lava instantly.

Elizabeth bowed her head before picking up the helm and returning to her friends.

.

Their journey back was quieter than it had been on the way there. There were fewer darkspawn, and when they crossed the bridge at Bownammar, the archdemon was nowhere in evidence, even if the milling thousands below them never stopped marching. When they reached Caridin's Cross, Shale announced her intention of going to Cadash Thaig, saying that Caridin had told her the way there. She wanted to go alone, and Elizabeth let her. Shale said she would be back when they were ready to leave Orzammar, and departed.

They arrived at Orzammar a short while later; Elizabeth had no idea whether it was day or night by this point. Their arrival was seen by guards, and they were hastily escorted to the Assembly. Elizabeth carefully carried the precious crown in a sack over her shoulder, and she was beginning to become nervous. What if the dwarves did not want to listen to her? After all, her support of Harrowmont was well known, making her clearly biased, and they might say she fabricated her entire story. She and all her friends were outsiders, surfacers, and Oghren was clearly not held in any sort of high esteem.

The Assembly was a little more under control today than the first time she had gone, with all eyes on Bhelen and Harrowmont as they seemed to be arguing their cases for the umpteenth time. She, Alistair, and Oghren were escorted to the centre of the floor, while the others were given seats at the back of the auditorium.

"I apologize for the interruption, Steward Bandelor," said the captain of their guard, "but the Grey Wardens have returned."

A mild outcry rose up, but Bandelor raised his arms. "Let the Wardens speak!" He turned to them. "Did you find our Paragon? What news do you bring?"

"I found Paragon Branka," Elizabeth said, willing her voice not to shake. "I also found Paragon Caridin, transformed into a golem." A startled gasp echoed from the walls. "There was a battle, and Branka was defeated. Caridin asked me to destroy the Anvil of the Void and committed suicide, but before that, he made you this." She drew the sack from the crown, and the eyes of the dwarves all lit up at the golden thing that shone in her hands like the moon at harvest.

Bhelen narrowed his eyes at her. "Is what you say true? You could have made it all up. The Anvil has been lost for centuries, and Paragon Caridin… a golem? You jest."

"She's not jokin'," Oghren said gruffly. "That's about what happened. And a few other things too, like defeating hordes of darkspawn and a broodmother thing, but the important thing is: Caridin made that crown, and it's not for you."

Bhelen bared his teeth. "And why should we believe you, Oghren the drunk of House Kondrat?"

"You think I'd lie about my own wife going crazy and getting killed in her sodding foolish quest for power and technology?"

"Order," Bandelor commanded. He stepped forward and took the crown, examining it carefully. "This crown is indeed of paragon make. There is House Ortan's ancient seal. I for one believe the Grey Warden. Tell us, Warden, whom did Caridin choose?"

"Caridin did not wish to make a choice," Elizabeth said, bracing herself. "He asked me to choose whom I thought best."

"Warden Elizabeth knows nothing about us!" Bhelen cried. "She is clearly ignorant, and biased! Why would Caridin entrust an outsider with such a weighty decision? Already we hear that she destroyed the Anvil of the Void, a priceless and powerful artifact!"

"It doesn't matter," Bandelor said sternly. "We've argued in these chambers for over a month. If the will of the Paragon is that Warden Elizabeth decide, then she shall decide. As long as she makes a decision, it will be a relief."

"My choice, it seems, is known to you all," Elizabeth said. "I would choose Lord Pyral Harrowmont to be the next King of Orzammar."

Harrowmont bowed. "I thank you, Warden. You have acted with grace through this entire ordeal." The dwarf attendants formed two lines, and Harrowmont approached Steward Bandelor, who still held the crown, with great formality. The attendants beat their staffs on the floor rhythmically.

"I will not abide by this!" Bhelen cried.

"The ancestors have spoken," cried another lord, in a tone that meant "shut up".

"You're going to let a surfacer decide the fate of the dwarves!" Bhelen shouted. "Ancestors have nothing to do with this woman!" He drew a small axe from his belt and charged at Harrowmont.

Elizabeth shoved Harrowmont aside to block the charge. "Stay behind me!"

There was a pandemonium. Someone shouted "They brought weapons!" and the chamber suddenly seemed flooded with Bhelen's supporters, wielding axes, maces, daggers. The only hope the others had was the fact that everyone seemed to attend the Assembly in armour, and Elizabeth's group.

She was pushed back several steps by Bhelen's charge; the prince knew how to fight, at least, but she took his weight on her shield and slowed him before swinging her sword and forcing him to block her much longer reach with his own small shield. "To me!" she cried, and her friends crashed into Bhelen's line.

The skirmish did not take long, and at the end of it, Bhelen and fourteen deshyrs lay dead on the Assembly floor. "I'll admit I did not think even Bhelen would defy the word of a paragon," Harrowmont wheezed, looking slightly shaken, though he had kept safely behind Elizabeth for the entire battle. "Nor that so many would follow him."

"Orzammar saw him for what he really is," Bandelor assured him. "You will not have trouble bringing any insurgency under control. Shall we continue?"

Harrowmont knelt before Bandelor, who placed the golden helm on his head. "Let the memories find you worthy," Bandelor said. "First amidst the Lords of the Houses, the King of Orzammar." Harrowmont rose and gazed at his people, and they bowed before him.

"Let it be known that we will answer the Grey Wardens' call!" Harrowmont said. "Those loyal to the throne will begin preparations for a surface mission immediately." Applause broke out, and he turned to Elizabeth. "You will have dwarven aid in your Blight. Now I must go to the palace and begin setting things in motion. You are no doubt tired. My estate is, as always, open to you."

"Thank you, Lo- King Harrowmont," Elizabeth said. She really was tired if she was about to make a slip like that. "I think we will take you up on that offer." She bowed to him and led her group to get some rest.

.

Before she retired, she went looking for Zevran. She searched all through the estate, but he was nowhere to be found. At last she went into the street and looked up, and found him, sitting high upon the face of the estate.

"How did he get up there?" she asked herself, and set about trying to figure out how. It seemed impossible. There were no handholds that she could see; the wall was certainly not sheer and plain, but as for climbing it…

Perhaps there was a way? There was a crack she could squeeze into, and if she braced herself against both walls… but this would only take her so far. And this was certainly nothing like the climbing of trees she had done as a tomboy in Highever.

She knew he was aware of her before she was halfway up, and by the time she was halfway up, he had come to meet her, showing her how he had used every chink in the wall to his advantage. But she was gasping for air by the time they reached his former seat, and he didn't seem even a little out of breath. It wasn't quite fair, she thought sourly, and then schooled herself to politeness. She had come to apologize, after all.

"It's quite a view, isn't it?" he said cheerfully, his feet hanging off the edge, five stories above the street. It really was quite a view. The city was magnificent, although the lowest part, Dusttown, was maybe less inspiring to look at. The lava roiled with yellows and reds and blacks as it flowed from a giant fall past the Proving Grounds and on somewhere into the deeps.

"It is," she said, trying not to be nervous. "Zevran…"

"Hm?"

"I'm… I'm sorry. I've been horribly unfair to you…"

"I was at fault, and compounded it by insulting you." He chuckled ruefully. "Hardly gentlemanly behavior."

Her hands were clenched together and she loosened them with a conscious effort. "You were right – I do bear grudges. I try to be patient, and I try to understand people different from me, but sometimes… my pride gets in my way. And I'm sorry. I've been sorry for days. Forgive me?"

He smiled at her. "Only if you forgive me."

"Gladly." She stiffened as he draped an arm around her, but let him pull her to lean against his side. "I won't do that again, to anyone. At least to any of my companions."

"Certainly not a one you're fond of, eh?" he chuckled and kissed the top of her head as she blushed. "What do you mean by 'people different from you'?"

"Well… you are. Everyone here is. I don't mean that in a bad way. I've just had a very limited experience of life so far, and I don't want to be so arrogant as to think that everyone else is inferior to me just because I was born in a castle like so many other nobles do. I know I'm naive and I want to overcome that. Am I making sense?"

"You worry too much," he said. "For just this moment, don't think about life experiences or fairness or consequence. You can do that later. Take a moment to just be yourself. That is what I do, no?"

"But-"

"Stop worrying," he said again, and kissed her.

.

Author's note: This chapter is the first to use an SnK track as inspiration: you can find it on Youtube under the name Kyojin Shinkou. It's for when they're exploring the Deep Roads… and then the second half, when the music is more ominous, is the part with Hespith and the ogres and all that.


	9. Soldier's Peak

Soldier's Peak

.

Shale joined them the next day, as she had said, now decked out with multicoloured crystals on her shoulders and wrists. She was a littler quieter than usual, and did not seem inclined to talk about whatever she had experienced in Cadash Thaig. Elizabeth decided to give her time; it was a long hike back to the surface, and up-hill now. But at least they would be able to go downhill once they were outside again.

Outside! How she had missed it. The realm of the dwarves and the Deep Roads was very interesting, but she missed the wind, the trees, the grass and the sun and moon – and yes, even Ferelden's rain and mud. She knew she wasn't the only one, either. Every single one of them brightened as they exited the great doors in the mountainside – except maybe Oghren, who had never been on the surface before, and looked a little askance at what sky was visible through the moutains. Morrigan practically bounced down the stairs, and she could hear Huan snuffling deeply at her side. It was freezing and snowing, and winter had definitely set in while they were underground, but she didn't care.

They collected Bodhan and Sandal Feddic, and were hailed by a young-ish man who had been talking to them. "You're Grey Wardens, right? You're hard to find!"

"And if we are?" Alistair said suspiciously.

"My name's Levi, Levi Dryden. Did Duncan ever mention me? Levi of the Coins, Levi the trader?"

Alistair and Elizabeth glanced at each other. "I can't recall that he did," Alistair said. "Did you know him well?"

"Odd… I did know him quite well – as well as anyone, you might say. I've been searching you out because last year he promised to look into something important for the Wardens. And for me. And, well… now he's gone, Maker rest his soul."

"So you've come to us as his disciples," Elizabeth said. "I seem to vaguely recall the Dryden name…"

"Yes, well, my family's name is mud in noble circles right now, for related reasons. My great-great-grandmother is Sophia Dryden, the last Warden-Commander of Ferelden."

Elizabeth straightened in recognition. "Yes, now I remember. King Arland was being a bit of a tyrant and she joined with a Teyrn Cousland and several of my ancestors in rebellion. Teyrn Cousland was executed, and King Arland drove the Wardens out of Ferelden."

"You are a Cousland?" Levi exclaimed and bowed. "I beg your pardon, my lady!"

"I am a Cousland no more," she said. "I am a Warden only."

Levi straightened and coughed. "Hm, yes, well. You understand where I am coming from, then. House Dryden was stripped of their lands and titles, and then after King Arland died, there was a terrible civil war, and we were forced to keep on the move. But we rebuilt ourselves as merchants, and we never lost our pride."

"I see," Elizabeth said. "And what did Duncan promise you?"

"The truth," Levi answered. "I've been hoping to go to Soldier's Peak, the old Warden fortress, for a long time. I'm hoping to find evidence to clear Sophia's name! It won't restore our lands or our titles, but it'll restore our honour. The only problem's been that Soldier's Peak is ridiculously hard to get to – up in the mountains between Highever and Amaranthine, where all paths get twisty and it's ten to one that you'll end up where you started." His eyes gleamed. "But I found a way through! It took me years to find. So I went to Duncan and asked if he'd like the old fortress back, rather than the little headquarters in Denerim."

"One question," Alistair said. "It's winter right now. How hard is it going to be to head up the mountains like that?"

"Well… it's possible? I'll help you outfit yourselves, of course. If you agree to go."

"And why did you need Duncan's help, specifically?"

"No one's been up there for decades. It's said to be haunted, and I'm sure it's dangerous in other ways. I'm a merchant, not a warrior. I'd be too afraid to enter that place alone, and I don't want to hire just any old mercenary to bring along."

"I understand," Elizabeth said. "We will help you. We need to go to Denerim next, anyway, and that's in the same direction."

"Oh, thank you," Levi said. "A thousand blessings upon you both!"

.

First they traveled back through Gherlen's Pass to Redcliffe, where only Arlessa Isolde greeted them. Teagan, she explained, had gone to Denerim to take care of business – both his own, and for Redcliffe. "I'm worried he will say something rash and anger Loghain," she said. "He is only a Bann, and with Eamon still ill, there is no one to protect him."

"Arl Eamon is still ill?" Elizabeth asked. Alistair was off playing with Connor, who had recovered and had not yet been taken to the Circle Tower.

"Indeed he is," Isolde said sadly. "He lies in his coma like one who is dead. My doctor ensures that he eats and drinks even as he sleeps, but he has not shown any sign of waking." She turned to Elizabeth. "You are going to Denerim soon, are you not? Would you help him?"

"I don't understand," Elizabeth said. Was she asking her to help Teagan?

"I am certain that the Ashes of Andraste will heal my husband," Isolde said earnestly. "The man who is the foremost expert on such things is Brother Genitivi, and he usually lives in Denerim when he is not traveling and doing research… but he has not been seen there for months. My knights have not found any trace of him either, and many have been murdered on their quest."

"I will do what I can," Elizabeth said. "I don't know if it will be much. It's not exactly my area of expertise."

"Yes, but you have a Circle mage with you, Madam Wynne, and you have many people of various walks of life in your group. Surely you'll find something."

"I will do what I can," Elizabeth said again. "I will send you word if I find anything at all."

"Thank you," Isolde said. "And after everything, that horrid mage who poisoned Eamon escaped."

Elizabeth blinked. "He did? How?"

"I do not know," Isolde said. "He vanished without a trace one morning. No one saw him leaving the castle; in fact, no one saw anyone leaving the castle. Will you keep an eye out for him too?"

Personally, Elizabeth felt that if Jowan had found his freedom, he could have it; she sympathized with the arlessa, but Jowan had been a man between a rock and a hard place, and she trusted he would behave from now on. But she reassured Isolde politely.

She went with Sten down to the village to call on Dwyn, but the dwarf was gone for the week, said the mercenary who answered the door. He would not let Sten look at Dwyn's weapon collection to see if his sword was there, or even let them inside, even with Sten's threats of violence.

Sten growled to himself as they left the house, but turned it into a sigh. "When we come this way next, it will be mine."

.

It was eleven days to Soldier's Peak, and they were surprisingly busy days. There were more darkspawn on the highway, although there were more soldiers as well, busily patrolling the lands of the Bannorn. They still had to fight a bit, and they had just passed Lake Calenhad when they were ambushed by bandits.

"Oh dear, not again," Zevran said, nipping behind Shale as arrows came whistling out of the undergrowth towards them.

"What do you mean, not again!?" Alistair demanded, raising his shield. "This situation was your fault last time we were in it!"

Zevran chuckled as he ran off to cover Elizabeth's flank. "Somehow I don't think this lot will be as desperate as I was."

Elizabeth was confronting a Qunari mercenary, and was afraid she would get the worst of it until Huan jumped onto the warrior's arm, giving her an opening. Then she heard Leliana give a cry that frightened her badly. "Wynne's been hit!"

"No!"

"Wait," Leliana called. "She… she's not hurt. She fainted."

"Worry about it later," Sten told her. "Fight now."

"Aye, ser!"

The bandits were unusually good and numerous, and it was a fierce skirmish, but Elizabeth's group was better, even with the loss of Wynne, and Alistair knocked down the last bandit and raised his sword.

Leliana came running. "Don't kill him! Let's speak to him first!"

"Why?" Alistair said bluntly.

"He is no common bandit," Leliana said. "None of them were. Their weapons and armour are good, and they've been trained. Surely you noticed?"

"I did, but I just figured they were uncommon bandits."

Leliana turned to the cowering man. "You know what I'm talking about, don't you? Who are you? Who sent you? Was it Loghain?"

The man coughed, nursing his side. "I'm someone who regrets taking you on. Was told this would be an easy job… kill the red-haired girl, kill the others if we liked…"

"So it was me this time…" Leliana said. "Who sent you?"

"It don't pay to ask why someone wants someone else dead. I just find out what to do and where to get my money. I didn't even know who hired us. But… you've wiped us out, the whole band. Will you spare me, at least, if I tell you where I was to go to get paid?"

"Very well," Leliana said.

The man fumbled inside his coat and brought out a piece of paper. "It's directions to a house in Denerim. It's the best I can do…"

"Then you may go," Leliana said. "Elizabeth, I…"

Elizabeth was already returning at a run to Wynne, who was just waking up under Shale's watchful eye. "Wynne! Are you all right?"

"I suppose I owe you an explanation," said the elderly mage. "I hope I didn't make you worry too much."

"What do you mean? Is something wrong?"

"I believe I died in the Circle Tower, before ever you got there," Wynne began. "But my spirit lingered in the Fade, and I felt a presence draw near me… It was a gentle, comforting presence, and before I knew it, I was waking up on the cold, hard floor." She smiled ruefully. "I suppose I am a sort of abomination, now, since it is bound to me, sustaining my life. For what purpose, I do not know. But have no fear; I am still myself and it has no interest in taking me over."

"Should you be on this journey?" Elizabeth asked worriedly.

"I am living on borrowed time, it's true, and I do not know how much. But I should be fine to continue. It's one reason why I wanted to leave the Circle Tower and travel again. It's only… the spirit is growing weak. I believe that is why I passed out today. But I will help you for as long as I can."

"Thank you for being here," Elizabeth said, and helped her to her feet.

"This spirit bond… what is it like?" Zevran asked innocently.

"Well… let me see. It is hard to describe. It is comforting… I… I feel safe, loved… It is like being held close, cradled… the bond is so complete that I am unable to extricate myself, nor do I wish to. And there is a constant warmth, that spreads outwards from the very center of my being, infusing my body with…"

Zevran moaned, and Wynne shot him a glare full of daggers as she stalked away offended.

Leliana was at her elbow. "Elizabeth, I need to talk to you…"

"You want to find the person who sent the mercenaries after you," Elizabeth said. "I understand."

"You don't understand all of it… I believe it's Marjoleine who sent them. She's… When I lived in Orlais, I wasn't just a minstrel."

"I'm not surprised," Elizabeth said, smiling. "You have so many skills, so much experience I was sure you had to have had something else in your life. So were you a spy? Orlesian spies are famous for their skills."

Leliana blinked at her eagerness. "You would just accept me?"

"You're no more extraordinary than anyone else in this group," Elizabeth said. "You have not betrayed us, and I trust you. We're friends, right?" Though she had to wonder if Leliana would have told her about this part of her life if it had not come up.

Leliana smiled in relief. "Yes, we're friends. I didn't want to tell you because I thought you might not like it, but… this is a weight off my mind. Well, Marjoleine was my teacher, my mentor, my everything. I'll tell you the whole story later, but she framed me as a traitor, and I narrowly escaped execution by running to Ferelden. I went to the Chantry in Lothering to… to forget. To start a new chapter of my life, a better chapter. Then there was my vision, and I joined you, and now I suppose Marjoleine is after me again since I know the truth about her."

"So you want her to stop bothering you," Elizabeth said. "Will we have to kill her?"

Leliana's forehead wrinkled as she made an upset face. "I hope not. I have no wish to kill her, just for her to leave me alone. It may be naive of me, but I want to try to talk to her and make her see that. So, when we go to Denerim…"

"We'll stop by," Elizabeth promised. "And you'll have me for back-up."

"Thank you so much," Leliana said. "And thank you for understanding. I'll sleep well tonight."

"You had a vision, Leliana?" Zevran asked, ever Elizabeth's shadow.

"Or maybe I won't," Leliana muttered in resignation. "I'm not certain I wish to discuss my vision with you. You'll make fun of me."

"Noooo, why would I do ever do such a thing?"

"See? There you go. No, I am not speaking to you of it."

Zevran grinned. "Hmm. Yes, I suppose the Maker would not want you to spread His words. Very well, I'll accept your reproach."

"Why do you even wish to know?" asked Leliana in exasperation.

Zevran grinned wider. "Why, to make fun of you, of course."

Leliana looked up to the sky and sighed violently. "You, ser, are utterly impossible."

"On the contrary, I am often told how very easy I am, my dear."

He did tend to tease, Elizabeth mused, but no one except Wynne was really bothered by it. Perhaps she should tell him to be nicer to Wynne.

.

They had camped for the night and were eating dinner. Oghren finished his bowl of stew in what seemed like a single mouthful and belched. "Elf!"

Zevran turned to look at him, smiling pleasantly. "Oghren!"

"I have something to say to you!" Oghren announced.

Zevran raised an expectant eyebrow. "I am all ears, as we elves like to say."

Oghren hesitated. "I… Well, now I forgot."

"Alas."

Oghren shook a finger at him. "But just know I had something."

"You've had several somethings, I suspect," Zevran said, miming drinking. "It's part of your charm."

"Don't lay it on too thick, there," Oghren said, giving Zevran a distrustful look. "I don't wanna end up in your tent like everyone else here." As Zevran laughed, the dwarf shot a look at Alistair and Elizabeth. "Well, maybe not everyone else here… Someone needs to find a partner with no pants involved."

Alistair choked. "H-how do you know I haven't!?"

"I can smell purity a mile away," Oghren said. "It's a talent."

"That must prove useful for any number of things," Morrigan said sarcastically – it was her night to cook, and so she had joined them for once.

"Not that often, it turns out," Oghren said. "Be much better if I could smell cheese."

"Or anything at all," Sten muttered.

"Anyway, is it a thing that Grey Wardens have to be virgins?" Oghren asked, loudly, and Elizabeth could feel a flush spreading up from her neck. Zevran caught her eye and raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she turned her face away, turning crimson.

"No, it isn't," Alistair said faintly.

"Maybe they should get it out of their system together!" Oghren said, giggling. "Both young, attractive virgin human Wardens – would be good for both of you!"

Alistair sputtered some kind of denial. "We're not – she's my – she has-"

"No," Elizabeth said, much too loudly.

"Why don't you get it on with the elf, then? He's been moonin' after you every sodding day since we left Orzammar, and you ain't been sayin' no to having him around! I caught ya sucking face the other day, even. What are you waiting for?"

Elizabeth's face was stormy as she finished her dinner, studiously ignoring Oghren's continuing loud innuendos, and went back to her tent quickly.

"Thanks, Oghren," she heard Zevran say sarcastically.

"Anytime, pal."

.

The coastal mountains between Ferelden and Highever were not particularly high, but like Levi had said, they were confusing to travel through at the best of times, and no one lived there. It was not the best of times now; the snow lay in drifts four feet tall, almost as tall as Oghren. The pine trees, warped from the strong winds, were hardly to be seen. They had to leave Bodhan and Sandal behind at the foot of the mountains in the last village, as their cart would not be able to make it up.

One particular mountain top seemed unusually pointy, and as they wound their way closer, Elizabeth began to see that it was actually a castle built at the very top of a mountain. She wondered how that had been accomplished.

"Maker's breath, look at the size of her," Levi commented, puffing as he struggled through the snow beside her. "What a fortress. Well, here we are! I got you here all right, so now I'll follow you, if you don't mind."

"That's fine," Elizabeth said. "Stay safe, first of all."

"Looks like it's seen better days… or rather centuries," Alistair commented.

"Once the Wardens flourished, their ranks full, their calibre certain. Now they even accept people like you, Alistair," Morrigan teased.

"Hey!" Alistair said, but was it only her imagination, or had their exchange had less heat than usual?

It was a good thing that she went first. They passed under the gate and into the courtyard, where the snow was less deep and they were sheltered from the wind by high walls, and she heard a shuffling sound. Her hand went to her sword.

"Skeletons!" Leliana cried, and Elizabeth drew her sword and set herself ready to guard against the attacks of the skeletons dragging themselves up from under the snow. They wore the liveries of both royal Theirin and Warden forces, but they all attacked.

"Well that's disturbing," Alistair said. "Guess this place really is haunted."

"The Veil must be thin here," Wynne said. "I sense… there are more dangerous trials to come, here."

And then Elizabeth saw ghosts, spirits that ignored them but talked among themselves as if the companions were not even there. "Taking the Peak will not be easy, my lord."

"Bah, I give the Wardens a chance to surrender with honour, and they hole up here like cowards. We'll do as the king advises. Starve them out. We'll wait until they're too weak to lift their weapons, and then send them to their final judgement."

"Am I seeing things?" Alistair said, as the last skeleton fell to Shale. "These guys aren't real, right? They're not attacking us… but I sure would like to attack them!"

"I'm not going mad, right?" Levi said.

"I saw it too," Leliana said. "This very place wants us to know its history."

"Perhaps there will actually be something fun to fight here," Morrigan commented. "I had almost lost hope."

"Spread out," Elizabeth ordered. "Clear the courtyard before we press inwards."

When they were sure that no more undead waited to assail them, they turned to the door of the keep. It lay splintered in the archway, and the battering ram that had done the damage lay nearby. Elizabeth picked her way carefully over the remnants of the door and inside.

The interior of the fortress was dark and cold. Snow and dirt driven in from the outside covered the floor, and thick cobwebs hung from every corner and piece of smashed furniture. Elizabeth wondered, with a wrench to her heart, how Highever Castle fared after its own invasion. Everything was incredibly still, and the scuffling noises they made as they entered seemed too loud, as if they would attract any number of monsters from the inner reaches of the castle to drive them out.

They explored the lower levels of the castle first, and were indeed attacked several times by undead… and lesser demons. "Not a good sign," Wynne said.

But they didn't find much until they pushed open the door to the great hall on the second level, and straight into a scene of controlled chaos. The ghost of a beautiful dark-haired woman in heavy armour was striding towards them, her sword in hand. "Make them pay for every inch, men!" she commanded, and the ghosts around her in Warden uniforms cheered. "Just a little longer! How is it, Avernus?"

Elizabeth saw there was a Warden mage farther back in the hall, with several magic circles glowing at his feet. The other Wardens kept clear of his area, and he was chanting something in a loud voice. A mirror at the back of the room was glowing, pulsing in time with his words.

Behind them, soldiers in Theirin livery pressed their way into the room, hacking at the defenders. The mage finished his chant with a great shout, and something boiled and erupted from the mirror. The attackers paused in fear, and then everyone screamed as a host of demons poured from the mirror. But over it all roared the voice of Sophia Dryden: "Press them back! Press them, now!"

The mage seemed to be having an argument with the demons. "I command you! Attack the king's men!"

"Fool," Morrigan muttered. "I wonder how that turned out?"

"Ahhhh," sighed the largest demon in contentment. "So much suffering, death, and… yes… blood. The Veil is torn now, Avernus, and your soul is mine!"

The mage gasped, flailing backwards. "Acolytes! Retreat! Flee!"

"Avernus!" cried Dryden, and the vision blinked out, as if a shutter had been slammed.

They stood in the empty, lifeless hall, where skeletons of soldiers on both sides sprawled, rotting, on the floor. The mirror at the back of the hall shone with a violet light, and occasionally sparks and small lightning flashes crackled from it.

"Well," Alistair said. "That was… interesting."

And then demons attacked them.

"How do we close the tear in the Veil?" Elizabeth shouted as she slammed one with her shield.

"I'm not sure," Morrigan said. "Let's defeat these little demons first and we'll have some time to have a look at it."

"The Wardens… She allowed… They summoned demons!" Levi stammered. "Was the cause that desperate?"

When the battle had died down and there were no demons in evidence, Elizabeth left Morrigan and Wynne examining the mirror-portal and bickering on its solution. She also left Sten, who would surely keep peace between the two mages, if not civility, and went with the others to continue clearing the floor.

One of the rooms immediately adjoining the hall was a study that looked suitable for a Warden-Commander. It was filled with books, candlesticks, a large desk and a few chairs, and cobwebs. Weapon racks hung from the walls, and a few swords and spears and shields hung there still. A large painting of Sophia, dressed as an arlessa, hung from the wall over the empty fireplace.

Elizabeth did not even see the person at the back of the room until she spoke. "Come no further. This one would speak with you." The person rose to greet them, and Elizabeth almost screamed, for this was no ghost, but the animated corpse of Sophia Dryden herself, still in her armour. Her face was blotched in a way that reminded Elizabeth of Hespith in the Deep Roads. Huan growled and crouched as if to spring.

"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked warily. Sophia's eyes were milky white and sightless, yet they were fixed on her face in an unnerving way.

"This one is Dryden, Commander, Sophia. And this Peak is mine."

"G-grandmother…?" Levi gasped.

"You have slain many of the demon ilk to get here," the corpse said. "You are strong. Good. This one would propose a deal."

"Uh, Levi, I think your great-great-grandmother is possessed by a demon," Alistair said.

"That, or she's really let herself go," Levi said, trying weakly to joke. "My great-great-grandmother is dead. I don't know what that is."

The corpse shrugged. "This one has tasted her memories, seen her thoughts and secrets. But it is true what the boy says. She is food for this one, no more and no less."

Shale stirred. "It seems odd that this Warden-Commander would consort with demons. From my former master I often heard that they were evil – though that did not stop him trying to study them."

"The humans are capable of far greater evil than this one or its kind, golem," said the corpse. "But there is still a deal to speak of. This one is trapped at the Peak, but the Dryden's memories are so full of tantalizing places. This one would experience them for herself. All you must do is go into the old mage tower and destroy what you find there. In return, this one will seal the tear in the Veil for you. No more demons, no more enemies, the Peak to do with as you please… and in return, you let this one go into the world to live life in freedom."

"You must be joking," Elizabeth said, although it was clear the demon was not. "I do not know Sophia Dryden's reasons for summoning demons, but I do not make deals with them."

"Sounds good!" Alistair said with a smile.

"Then you are a fool!" the demon snarled, and drew her sword. More Warden skeletons rose to join her and suddenly Elizabeth's group found itself surrounded. The door slammed shut, and a barrier prevented them from breaking it down.

The demon was advancing on them with sword and shield, and as she drew close to Oghren, she suddenly moved, slamming into him with inhuman strength. Oghren had no time to block and was flung back into the wall; several of the weapon racks there fell to the floor, scattering swords and spears over the floor. Alistair yelled as he found a skeleton in front of him and behind him; a blow from Shale's fist smashed the one behind him. Levi cowered in the corner, his hands over his head.

Huan barked and attacked the demon, and was flung aside by her shield. She was incredibly strong, and her movements… she moved as Elizabeth wanted to move someday, as a true warrior. Elizabeth stepped around a knocked-over chair and challenged her; behind her, Zevran brought down another skeleton.

Oghren was recovering, and raised his axe to attack the demon from behind as Elizabeth engaged her from the front, but quick as a snake, the demon stabbed Oghren in the hip and turned back to Elizabeth. It was a lucky shot, and Oghren fell to one knee. With one hand, he swung his axe again, but the demon had already pushed Elizabeth back, out of his range. Zevran darted in to attack the demon in the back, but either he missed or the demon could feel no pain.

Elizabeth was on the defensive now, but the demon was too fast, too strong for her. The demon's sword tore Elizabeth's sword from her hand, and its shield smashed into Elizabeth's face, and if it hadn't been for her helmet, she would have suffered a broken nose or worse. As it was, she was knocked flat on her back, without her sword, and the demon stepped on her shield arm and prepared to stab Elizabeth in the face. Elizabeth twisted and reached desperately, seeking her sword, but all she found was another sword that had fallen from the weapon racks. She swung it upwards frantically, seeking to counter the blade aimed at her eye.

There was a small crack and a flash of blue-purple lightning, and the demon staggered back into Zevran's tackle. Elizabeth got a leg underneath herself and launched herself up, swinging the borrowed sword at the creature's throat.

There was another crack, and the demon fell, headless, and with blue lightning sizzling around its body. Elizabeth drew back a pace, and found Huan at her side, her own sword in his jaws.

She looked down at the sword in her hand. It was slightly longer than her usual sword, and ornate tracings of lyrium ran down the blade, glowing faintly blue. The hilt was of silver with a grey leather grip, and rounded hand guard. "What is this blade?" She laid it down on the desk and took her own back.

"I don't know, but it's a beauty," Alistair said. "If I didn't have Duncan's sword, I might be tempted to nab this for myself. You should take it!"

She hesitated. She did have her father's sword, but it did not have the enchanted power that this sword clearly had.

"Oh, look," Leliana said. "There was a plaque on its rack. It's called Starfang, and it was forged from starmetal? Ooh, that's so romantic! I agree with Alistair. Take it!" She held out the sheath that had fallen from the sword when the rack fell on the floor.

"I have no objection to you taking it," Levi said, crawling out of his corner. "This whole castle belongs to you, anyway."

"I can't use it," Oghren said. "Not my style."

"Nor mine," Zevran said. "And you look very dashing with it."

"Very well," Elizabeth said, sheathing the sword and buckling it on next to her other one. It felt awkward, but she would put the Cousland sword somewhere safe soon.

"Can we keep going?" Levi asked. "That… thing said something about the mage tower, and I have the feeling we're not done here."

They went back outside to see Wynne and Morrigan. Wynne hurried to them, having heard the fighting and ready to heal their injuries. When that was done, she gestured to the mirror.

"I'm afraid I'm not sure how to shut this down," she said. "It's been here so long… There are elements of the ritual remaining that could perhaps be used to close it, but I don't know…"

"Apparently there is something in the tower that might help us," Elizabeth said. "Let's leave this for now and see if that is true."

"Very well," Morrigan said, sweeping towards the doorway. Suddenly her gaze sharpened as it fell on Alistair. "Have a care where your eyes linger, Alistair."

Alistair snorted. "Don't worry, it's not what you think."

Morrigan raised an eyebrow. "Is it, then."

"I was looking at your nose."

"And what is it about my nose that captivates you so?"

Alistair smirked. "I was just thinking that it looks exactly like your mother's."

Morrigan bared her teeth at him. "I hate you so much."

"Come on," Shale rumbled. "Save your disgusting courtship rituals for later." As both Alistair and Morrigan fumed, the golem stomped towards the door that led to the outer walls.

.

The mage tower was a separate construction, positioned on its own outcropping on the mountain, and was connected to the rest of the castle with a long narrow bridge. The wind whistled beneath them as they crossed slowly. The bridge seemed sound, but Shale certainly didn't want to take chances.

The tower seemed to be free of monsters, and even the first room they entered seemed to be part of a laboratory. A laboratory with hanging cages…

Morrigan didn't give the cages a second glance, going over to the desk covered in papers. "Doesn't look like there's anything on demon portals here… This mage was researching Grey Warden taint, blah blah blah, unlocking the power in the blood, running out of test subjects, blah blah, untoward effects, poisoning, blah blah… Hm. Seems this potion here was the sum of his research."

"Blood magic?" Wynne demanded.

"Sort of," Morrigan said. "Calm down, old bat. Perhaps you'd like to give this a go, Alistair? Supposedly it will open the understanding of the potential of your Grey Warden-ness. You could certainly do with more understanding in general."

"Uh, no thanks," Alistair said, backing away from the vial she proffered. "That's been sitting there for how long? Decades? Ew."

"Elizabeth?"

She was serious? "No, thank you," Elizabeth said. "I feel I have been toyed with enough, becoming a Grey Warden. I have no wish to compound the problem with experimental research."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "Hope that works out for you."

"Let's keep searching," Elizabeth said. "Surely this is not the only room in this tower with information."

"Information I think you will find," Leliana called. "Someone lives on the next floor."

Elizabeth followed her up the stairs and pushed open the door.

"I hear you," called the person in the next room. "Don't break my concentration." Elizabeth walked forward a few quiet paces into the room and watched the man in mage robes scurry from one side of the room to the other, doing things she didn't understand. He looked incredibly old, his skin sagging on his face and hands, but his eyes were still bright. "Even now the demons seek to replenish their numbers. I trust you are responsible for this temporary imbalance?"

"We are," Elizabeth said. "Who are you and how do you live here?"

The mage snorted. "Useless questions… My name is Avernus and I live here. What more do you need to know? What brings you here?"

"Avernus… You're still alive? We saw visions…"

"Only just alive… I don't have much longer. Yes, you would get visions of strong memories where the Veil has been torn, wouldn't you?"

"How are you still alive?" Elizabeth demanded. "Are you another blood mage?"

Avernus shook his head impatiently. "The Chantry foolishly forbids blood magic when there is so much reasonably safe research to be gained from it. I've used it to extend my life and fight the Wardens' taint, but that only goes so far. Now I think I've earned some answers of my own, hmm? What brings you here, where no one has come in decades?"

"Uhh… Master mage, ser," Levi began haltingly. "My family name has been worth less than dirt for over a century. Is… is there anything I could bring back to prove that Sophia Dryden was a hero?"

Avernus's mouth crinkled. "You are a Dryden? The cosmos has a sense of humour, it seems. Your ancestor was the best of us. Brave, charismatic, fiery, utterly devoted to the fight." Elizabeth felt Zevran nudge her. "But we still lost. Though we fought against a tyrant… We were so full of vigour then, you know? So blind to consequence."

"I'd agree with that part," Sten muttered.

"But proof? I can offer you none."

"Oh," Levi said, and drooped a little. "Well, thanks anyway, ser."

"And now her corpse walks and talks, but she herself is no more."

"Actually, I think we killed the demon in her body," Leliana piped up.

"Good, good… at least she is now spared that indignity. She deserved that much."

"Why did you summon demons?" Elizabeth asked. "Was it that desperate?"

"It seems the years have erased our failure," the old mage said. "Back then, yes, it seemed the best choice. I researched the summoning circles for months. But the kingdom lives on, and little worse for wear, I assume. My only regret is that I never had the chance to make Arland himself pay."

"Well, it is under a Blight again," Alistair said.

"That is why you have come, then. The Wardens will need their home back. Very good." He nodded. "With your help, I will be able to seal the rift in the Veil."

"Why couldn't you do it before?" Alistair asked.

"And how did you know we are Wardens?" Elizabeth asked.

"You ask the most trivial questions… I could not do it before because it takes a great deal of concentration, and I cannot concentrate while fighting off twenty demons at the same time. You'll take care of them, won't you? As for the second question, I am a Warden myself."

"Absolutely we'll kill demons for you," Alistair said. "Can't say I like working with a blood mage, but this needs to be finished."

"Stay your vengeful hand long enough that we can have some peace and quiet," Avernus said drily, and led the way down to the great hall where the portal was.

The room was as silent as they had left it, and Avernus paused in the doorway, listening. "They have not yet returned, but they will rush through in force once they realize what we are doing. I must undo each of the four magic circles in turn, and they will be able to enter until every last one is unraveled. Just keep them away from me."

He strode to the closest circle, raised his hands, and an unearthly shriek rose from the mirror.

Elizabeth fell in love with her new sword during that battle. The lyrium veins blazed as she stabbed and sliced, and it spat lightning at anything it touched. The lesser demons faded before it, and she felt almost invincible.

At least until the ash wraiths, the rage demons, and the desire demon showed up. Then she had to use her wits again, and rely on her friends, or else she would have been caught out and destroyed by sharp claws and terrible magic. She urged Avernus to hurry as the pressure against them became greater, although she knew he was doing all that he could. Leliana was beside him, shadowing him and shooting anything that looked like it would come near.

The demons fought viciously, trying to keep their hold on the world, and the companions had to close in around Avernus to keep them from touching him, standing shoulder to shoulder against them all. At last, the glowing lines of the last magic circle faded under Avernus's fingers, and the demons wailed and vanished.

Avernus sighed. "It's over. The Veil is strong again. Stronger, at least. It never was very strong on this mountaintop."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, taking her helmet off and wiping her brow with her handkerchief. "We would not have been able to do it on our own."

"Nor I. And what of me now? Will you give me leave to experiment in peace?"

"I heard the gist of what was in your notes," Elizabeth said. "No more test subjects. Whatever you come up with cannot hurt anyone in its development."

"N-no test subjects!? But… without tests, my work will be crippled!" He sighed. "Very well. I will do what I can. I am sure you will hear of it if I disobey you." He shuffled back towards his tower.

"I think that geezer deserves the gallows, but I suppose folk will do queer things to survive," Levi said when he had gone. "Maybe if he does proper research, without all the blood magic and such, he'll redeem himself with something useful."

"I'm sorry we couldn't find anything to help you," Elizabeth said. "But the past clearly won't offer redemption, so… look to the future. You're a good man, Levi Dryden, and you make your family proud."

"Thank you, ma'am," Levi said, smiling. "And you have a castle to operate from."

"It's a bit remote," Alistair said. "We've got a lot of traveling to do before the Blight is over."

"Would you like the castle?" Elizabeth asked. "At least for the time being. It will be a safe place for you until the end of the Blight, and then if necessary we can surely work out a deal."

"This place is big enough for the entire Dryden clan twice over," Levi said. "I'm sure we can also work out a deal." He looked around at the hall. "We can tidy this place up. I'll have to ensure the kids don't go anywhere near the tower…"

"Have a care with that," Leliana said, smiling. "A forbidden tower with a sinister wizard inside? That's how many fairytales start – and how some of them finish."

Levi nodded. "Point taken. I'll really have to ensure the kids understand not to go near the tower under any circumstances even one time. Or… invite the geezer to dinner so he thinks of us as not for experimenting on?" He shivered. "I think I'll stick with the first choice." He bowed to them. "Thank you again. You have done amazing things on my behalf, and I'll never be able to thank you properly. Oh, but you can have your pick of my wares at half-off discount! Look up my brother Mikhail in Denerim. He's a blacksmith. He'll serve you well."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "I shall do so."

.

As they descended the mountain, Morrigan actually came forward to talk to Alistair. "You… do not truly think I look as my mother does, do you?"

Alistair blinked at her. "Have you really been thinking about that all this time?"

"I am simply curious," Morrigan said coldly.

"And not insecure in the slightest, I'm sure," Alistair teased.

"I look nothing like her," Morrigan said.

"I don't know," Alistair rejoined. "Give it a few hundred years and it'll be a spot-on match."

"I said that I look nothing like her!" Morrigan shouted, and Alistair flinched.

"All right. Got it. Totally different. I see that now."

"Good," said Morrigan imperiously, and dropped to the back again.

Leliana was walking with Elizabeth. "May I tell you a story?"

"Please do," Elizabeth said. "I love your stories."

"I was thinking, you remind me a bit of Aveline, the knight of Orlais, from my favourite story. A long time ago, a girl-child was born to a farmer. The farmer had hoped for a son, not a daughter, so he told his wife to abandon the child in the woods."

"Spot on so far," Oghren teased.

"Before the cold could claim her," Leliana went on, ignoring Oghren, "the baby was found by a tribe of Dalish elves, who took pity on the poor mewling thing and raised her as their own. Aveline, for that is what they called her, grew strong and quick and clever under the guidance of the elves. She learned to wield a sword as well as any man, could kill a deer with the bow, and was as graceful on the back of a horse as she was on foot."

"The first two might actually be accurate," Alistair said. "Last one, probably not."

"Shush," Leliana said. "It's rude to interrupt someone telling a story!"

"Sorry."

"Aveline's Dalish guardians saw that she could easily best any Orlesian chevalier in battle, and wanted the cruel humans to see the child they had left to die. They bestowed upon her a fine horse and armour, and sent her to prove herself to her people in the Grand Tourney. Now, in those days, no woman was allowed to take up arms, let alone compete in the Grand Tourney, but Aveline kept her helmet on and was not discovered. She won many events, and gained the approval of the adoring crowd. Eventually, she came face-to-face with the knight Kaleva in the Grand Melee. Aveline had already bested him in the joust, and Kaleva was determined not to lose a second time. Out of desperation to regain his honour, Kaleva tripped Aveline and tossed her to the ground, ripping off her helmet as he did so. Silence fell upon the arena as Aveline was revealed. Kaleva declared the previous competitions invalid: a woman had taken part, and this was not allowed. But the crowd cheered for Aveline all the more. Kaleva was furious: he had lost to a woman, and was now being shamed. Blinded by his rage, he forced Aveline to her knees. "Know your place, woman," cried he, and slit her throat."

Elizabeth swallowed. "And… I remind you of this person? I… was hoping for a happy ending, personally."

"That's what she said," Zevran mumbled.

"It's not all a sad ending," Leliana said. "Prince Freyan, the son of the king, was present. He recognized Aveline's skill and bravery, and began to see the injustice done to woman in his land. When he became king, he rewrote the laws so that women could also become chevalier. He honoured Aveline and knighted her, even after her death. And to this day, any female who is knighted revers Aveline the Brave, for she is the patron of all women chevalier."

"It's an interesting story, but I'm hoping not to die in the next year," Elizabeth said. "Honours or not."

"Of course," Leliana said cheerfully. "But you are as brave and as strong as she is, and you fight injustice as she did. You will bring Ferelden hope and glory, just as Aveline did for Orlais."

"Hm," Elizabeth said. She had much to think about with that one.

.

They had to make their way past Highever Castle the next day to return to the highway to Denerim. Elizabeth threw an extra cloak over her shield and hoped they were not attacked or questioned by anyone. But the real problem was that she was not prepared to see her home again. It had only been a few months.

They came around a hill and saw the great grey edifice, snow blown against it, and on every one of the banners flew the bear of Amaranthine, not the Cousland laurels. There were still burn marks from the attack around the gate. Everything was motionless in the grip of winter; the flags didn't flutter, and even the guards on the wall seemed not to breathe.

She felt like her soul had been frozen as she saw it, and everything became unreal. She followed the others for the rest of the day, numbly, keeping her head down as they sought an inn on the edge of Highever Town for food and sleep. Levi left them there, to attend to his own affairs with his family. Alistair payed, she knew that much. Leliana and Zevran traded some words before Zevran took her hand, and she followed him as if in a dream.

He was helping her remove her armour, taking off her boots, when she suddenly unthawed. "Wait-"

He stopped. "I'm not trying to seduce you. Right now. You have been distant, all day."

"I know," she whispered, and covered her face with her hands. He finished with her left boot, leaving her in tunic and pants.

"It was your home," he said gently, now wrapping her in his arms and pulling her to lie beside him in the narrow bed. "That, at least, I can understand somewhat. Relax, Liz. Nothing will happen to you that you don't wish to happen."

She tried, but the fact was she was afraid to move, and afraid to relax. She had never been in this situation before. But at least now she was thinking about him and not about her poor occupied castle. He was… warm, very warm, and she appreciated it. She still felt cold, and he pulled the wool blankets tighter around her as she shivered. Now she was in a little cocoon, of blankets and Zevran, and his breath and body warmed her. Slowly, she let herself relax, and he kissed her forehead briefly before reaching over her to pinch out the candle, leaving the room in darkness.

There was a scratching at the door, and a moment later Alistair opened it, revealing Huan's panting face in the light of Alistair's candle. "Sorry to interrupt, but he really wanted to get in here." He let Huan in and closed the door again.

"But-" Zevran began, and was interrupted by the mabari jumping on the bed. "Oof!"

Elizabeth sat up. "Huan! Down. There isn't room for three." Her dog gave her sad eyes and a whine. "I'm sorry, but it's true. I know you're sad about Highever too." She reached over and scratched his head behind his ears and under his chin.

Zevran was pouting. "I'm trying to make you feel better in the least risqué fashion I can think of, and now you're ignoring me." She felt his hands on her waist, and stiffened as his unexpected touch tickled, before he dragged her back down into the depths of the bed and covered her face with kisses. Huan lay down beside the bed, apparently content with being in the same room as his mistress.

"Are you going to be all right?" Zevran asked.

She nodded, her head now cushioned against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"Good." He paused, and then asked with a laugh in his voice. "Are you sure you're not interested in… doing a horizontal tango?"

"Ehhhh!?"

"Sheathing the meat dagger? Riding the flag pole? Hiding the zucchini? Ah, you don't have zucchini in Ferelden…"

She punched him, not gently, in the chest. "Shut up or I'm leaving."

He chuckled and she felt it roll through her. "Yes, ma'am."

.

Author's note: music for cuddles is Eyewater from SnK.


	10. Haven

Haven

.

It took them another four days to travel to Denerim. Elizabeth hadn't been in the capital in some time, and she was a little nervous that they would be spotted by one of their many enemies there, but people kept their heads down in the cold, even the guards. They took rooms in an inn near the marketplace, and set about the daunting task of finding anything that could lead them to Brother Genitivi, Ferelden's expert on Andraste. Few people, it seemed, had ever heard of him, let alone knew him, even at the Chantry.

While the others split up to do odd jobs, earning themselves enough coin to continue staying at the inn as long as they needed to, Elizabeth and Leliana went to find Marjoleine along with Zevran, Huan, and Morrigan, who was not interested in taking a job of any kind and was spending most of her time climbing on things she shouldn't and getting yelled at by random people. The directions they were given were clear enough, and they found a perfectly unassuming door in a maze of side-streets on the north-west side of the city that matched their description.

"Let me go first," Elizabeth said. "I'm sure she wouldn't answer the door herself if she is as you say."

"I'll just hide at the back here," Leliana said, giggling nervously and slipping behind Zevran, pulling her hood over her head.

Elizabeth knocked at the door, which was answered by a surly-looking guard. "What d'you want?"

"I'd like to speak about the job with the red-haired girl," Elizabeth said forcefully, trying to pretend she was a mercenary. Thankfully, Morrigan didn't snicker.

"Don't remember her hirelings had so many women in their group… This is all of you that came back?"

Elizabeth nodded, and they were shown into an elegant sitting room. A lovely Orlesian woman rose to greet them.

Leliana stepped forward and threw back her hood. "Marjoleine."

Marjoleine's eyes flickered as she stifled a gasp and re-evaluated the situation. Elizabeth kept her face stern and her head high, tacitly warning the woman that Leliana was not to be trifled with.

"Leliana," Marjoleine said at last, faking a smile. "How lovely to see you again, my dear! You must excuse the shabby accommodations… I try to be a good host, but you see what I have to work with? The country smells like wet dog, everywhere, in my hair, in my clothes… I cannot get it out."

"Stop babbling and explain why you tried to murder my friend," Elizabeth said coldly.

"So business-like, your companion…"

"You framed me," Leliana burst out. "I was caught and tortured. I thought that in Ferelden, I would be free of you, but it seems I am not. Why do you hate me so? What did I do that you want me dead? Or did you never care for me in the first place!?"

"Dead? No… my Leliana, I know you and what you are capable of. Four, five men, you can dispatch easily. They were sent to make you come to me. And here you are!"

"No!" Leliana said. "You sent an entire mercenary company after me and my friends! Your lies are so transparent. What are you doing in Ferelden now?"

Marjoleine sighed. "In truth, you have information that can be used against me. For my own safety, I cannot let you be." Her eyes narrowed. "Did you think I did not know where you are? Did you think I would not watch my Leliana? "What is she up to?" I thought. "The quiet life, the peasant clothes, hair ragged and messy like a boy… This is not like her." You were planning something, I told myself. So I watched… but no letters were sent, no messages. You barely spoke to anyone."

"Sounds awfully dull," Zevran murmured.

"Clever, Leliana, very clever," Marjoleine said, shifting restlessly. "You almost had me fooled. But then you left the Chantry so suddenly… What was I to think?"

"You think I left because of you?" Leliana's voice rose in disbelief. "You think I still plot some kind of… revenge? You are mad, Marjoleine. Paranoid! Did you not see the Blight closing in on that little town? Did you not see the Grey Wardens? Not everything is about you, Marjoleine!"

"And these are the fabled Grey Wardens?" Marjoleine said, turning to the rest of them. "If I were you, I would not believe a thing she says. She will use you. You look at her and see a simple girl, a friend, trusting and sweet and warm. It is an act."

"I am not a Grey Warden, I trust no one, and I am friends with no one," Morrigan said, bored. "May we move on?"

"That is who _you_ are, Marjoleine," Leliana said. "I am not you. I left because I did not want to become you."

Marjoleine took a step forward, and as Leliana stiffened, took her face in her hands. "Ah, but you are me, Leliana. No one will understand you as I do because we are one and the same. You know why you were a master manipulator, Leliana? It is because you enjoyed the Game; you reveled in the power it brought you. You cannot deny this."

Leliana shrugged off Marjoleine with a swift movement. "You will not threaten me or my friends again, Marjoleine. I want you out of my life forever. You may fight, or you may leave. It is your choice. Don't come after me, and I won't come after you."

Marjoleine snorted. "You think you can kill me, my Leliana? I made you. I can destroy you just as easily."

"Not while we're here," Elizabeth said, shrugging her shield off and into her hand, just in case. The bodyguards were fidgeting. "Leliana will be free of you, one way or the other."

"You are a child," Marjoleine said dismissively. "But if you insist…" She turned to walk away, and suddenly whirled, a pair of throwing knives spitting out from her hand at them. Elizabeth flung her shield up reflexively and felt them connect and bounce off, and then the bodyguards were attacking them. One of them halted abruptly, frozen solid by Morrigan, and the other gurgled as Zevran appeared behind him and cut his throat.

Marjoleine had vanished into the next room, and now she reappeared for an instant, shooting an arrow at them. Elizabeth ducked and it smashed the window, and Leliana took a shot back, but Marjoleine ducked back behind the doorway into safety.

"Be careful," Leliana called as Elizabeth moved cautiously towards the doorway. "She is incredibly dangerous when cornered."

"So are we all," Morrigan said, sending now a fireball into the next room. It exploded with a 'foom' and paper and cloth caught on fire. Elizabeth could hear Marjoleine coughing.

Elizabeth swung suddenly into the room, around the corner where she knew Marjoleine was, her shield high. She was partly blind, but she wouldn't get an arrow to the face. She wasn't expecting Marjoleine to crash into her, striking her shield aside, grabbing her by the sword arm and trying to stab her with a dagger. Elizabeth retained the presence of mind to grab the dagger hand with her shield hand, and the two women reeled back and forth, neither able to attack the other. Marjoleine was no weakling, either, and even as Elizabeth tried to angle her sword to cut her, Marjoleine brought up a foot and kicked her in the gut, sending her stumbling back. She tripped over something and fell on her back. The Orlesian threw herself at her, smiling triumphantly as the dagger arced towards her throat; Leliana's arrow missed high.

Elizabeth kicked out, knocking Marjoleine back in turn, and even as the woman recovered herself, half-pulled herself to sitting and stabbed. Marjoleine groaned and slumped over the sword, and blood ran down to the hilt.

Elizabeth pulled her sword back and used it to help herself to her feet; Zevran was there to help her, but she was, miraculously, unhurt.

"You are on fire," Morrigan observed, and Elizabeth jumped and patted out the smouldering patch on her pants.

Leliana sighed as she lowered her bow. "So in the end she was too paranoid for her own good. She… I suppose she always used people, used them and discarded them… to survive. She loved me as long as she could use me, but when I started doing my own thing, I became a problem."

"Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked.

"It just hurts… hurts to think that I never really knew her. I thought I was close to her, before she… betrayed me. The first time." She sniffled. "What if she's right, though? What if… she and I really are the same? What if I'm going to turn into her?"

"She will never use or betray anyone again," Elizabeth said. "Without her, you can choose to be yourself, not her."

Morrigan rolled her eyes. "You are both nauseatingly naive. I should have gone with the walking heap of rubble."

"Oh!" Leliana brightened. "That's right! I'm taking all us girls shoe-shopping, now that we're finally in Denerim!"

"Even me?" Zevran said, batting his eyelashes at her.

"I meant Elizabeth and Morrigan, and Wynne and Shale."

"Shale?" Morrigan asked in disbelief. " _Shale_ doesn't need _shoes_."

"You never know," Leliana said mischievously. "She said she wouldn't mind having some red shoes."

"Pigeon-blood red, of course," Zevran said.

Leliana laughed. "Maybe. But if they make her happy, then mission accomplished! Well, I'm… I'm satisfied. I think. I need to pray on it. But I… we accomplished something. I'll meet you back at the inn this evening."

"Go on, chantry girl," Morrigan dismissed her. "Meanwhile, I am going to do some of my own shopping."

"Don't get in trouble," Zevran said with a wink, and Morrigan rolled her eyes as she stalked away.

.

He and Elizabeth and Huan walked in silence for a while. The Denerim market square was bustling with energy, and the sun was shining in that lazy, late-afternoon way, spreading an almost warm light over the trampled snow. It almost seemed news of the Blight had not touched the city. Vendors cried their wares, children ran and shrieked to each other, throwing dirty snowballs at all and sundry, dogs barked, and in a corner of the market, some minstrels were playing.

"You tend to get up to interesting things," he said at last.

"Hm? What do you mean?"

He grinned. "You meet interesting people and then sometimes you kill them. I'm glad I've stayed with you."

"I'm not going to send you away," she said, blushing. She wanted to clarify that, but couldn't find the words. Her brisk stride slowed as she registered the tune the minstrels were playing. "I… know this song."

"Do you indeed?" he asked. "That's interesting, for I know it too. I wouldn't have thought _you_ would know it, here in Ferelden."

"I danced to this once, with my father, at a ball at Highever… It was played a little differently, of course, but I know the tune."

"And I know the steps. Strange, the things one learns as an assassin." He held out his hand to her. "Dance with me."

She blinked and accepted the hand uncertainly. For an instant the world seemed to her to hold its breath.

Then she was pressed flush against his body, his right arm holding her close, his left hand holding hers gently but firmly, and they were moving in time to the music.

He was an excellent lead, and her feet followed his skillful steps. Her cheek was against his, and she inhaled his scent – leather and sweat and Antivan spice. She was very aware of the firmness of his body even through their armour and thick wool winter tunics, the lean strength in the arms that held her, the gentle sound and feel of his breath on her cheek and ear and neck, the shimmering gold of his hair against his bronzed skin. She closed her eyes and leaned more deeply into him as he deftly swung them around the small space they had to themselves.

Gradually, their movements grew less, until they were standing in one place, their arms around each other, swaying to the last notes of the music.

Elizabeth inhaled deeply, almost a sigh of contentment, and opened her eyes, raising her head slightly to look into his golden eyes. The look on his face was unexpectedly tender, and her eyes were suspiciously wet, though no tears fell. But she smiled, the happiest smile she had made in months. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure." He leaned forward and gave her a brief kiss.

She couldn't stop smiling.

.

A few days went by. They did not see Bann Teagan, not that Elizabeth sought him out – they had no news for him. They heard that Teyrn Loghain was traveling the Bannorn, coordinating the defenses against the darkspawn horde, at least of the Banns loyal to him, but Arl Howe was still in Denerim. Elizabeth made no attempt to seek him out, either. She had more important things to do, and while she grew restless at the thought that he was in the same city as her, she didn't feel herself ready, either. It would take a great deal of planning to get to him, let alone kill him. Zevran offered to help, but she turned him down. They were having enough trouble finding Genitivi.

But when a few days later they had met for dinner, Alistair was late. When he did arrive, he burst through the door of the inn and stomped excitedly over to their table, scattering melting snow everywhere and leaving enormous boot prints on the ground.

"What?" Morrigan demanded.

"Goldanna!" he announced to the table, but mostly looking at Elizabeth. "I found her! She really exists!"

"How wonderful for you," Morrigan said, and returned to her food and drink.

"She is your sister, yes?" Elizabeth asked, unable to forget what she had seen in the Fade, when Alistair's demon had taken on what she presumed to be his sister's form.

"Half-sister. I told you my mother was a servant, right? I did some investigating after I became a Grey Warden, and I found out she had a daughter, Goldanna. Well, I think today I found out where she lives!"

"That's wonderful," Elizabeth said. "So you've been to see her?"

Alistair immediately backpedaled. "Oh, no, no no no. I… I couldn't. Not by myself, anyway. But I want to. She's the only family I have left, really, and the only one not mixed up in all this royal nonsense. So… I'd like to go see her. Maybe warn her about the Blight, help her out somehow, I don't know. If something happened and I never spoke to her, I'd never forgive myself."

"So you want someone to hold your hand?" Morrigan asked caustically. "You can't even visit a fellow human by yourself, and you're to be king? My, this country is in a bind."

Alistair swatted at her impatiently. "I'm not inviting _you_."

"Pity," Morrigan said. "If she turns out to be a shrew, I'm sure I'd have a grand time baiting her."

"I'll come with you," Elizabeth said. "It's not a problem."

"Thank you ever so much," he said, and turned his attention to his plate with great studiousness as their companions broke into chatter about his announcement.

When they were finished, Elizabeth bundled back up, and so did Alistair, and they set off into the cold night. With much hemming and hawing and consulting of some hastily scribbled directions, Alistair led them through the market to a residential corner near the elven alienage. Suddenly, he stopped and pointed.

"That's the house! I'm almost sure of it… yes, this is the right address. She could be inside. Shall we… go and see?" His voice dropped in volume shyly at the end of it, and she nodded encouragingly.

"Do I seem a little nervous? I am. I really don't know what to expect." He began to talk very rapidly. "I'm so glad you agreed to come along with me. I'd rather you were there than anyone else in the group." Suddenly, he turned around. "Or, we could leave, I suppose. It's late and it's rude to call on people after dark, isn't it? Maybe we should come back tomorrow."

Elizabeth grabbed him by the arm, halting him in his tracks. "Get back here, Warden Alistair. We came all this way, it would be rude not to at least say hello."

"Will she even know who I am?" Alistair babbled. "Does she even know I exist? My sister. That sounds very strange. 'Sister'. 'Siiiiisterrrrrr'." He tried the word several different ways, and Elizabeth had to laugh. "Oh, I'm babbling. Maybe we should go. Let's go. Let's just… go." Apparently he meant to the house, because he strode to the door, cleared his throat, and knocked.

The door was opened by a cranky-looking woman, several years older than Alistair, with brown hair that was already showing grey hairs. She stared at Alistair silently.

"Uh… Hello?" Alistair's scraped-together nerve was failing him quickly. "Are you… Goldanna?"

"You have linens to wash?" the woman demanded. "I charge three bits on the bundle, you won't find better. And don't trust what that Natalia woman tells you either, she's foreign and she'll rob you blind."

"I'm not here to have any wash done," Alistair said, laughing nervously. "I- My name's Alistair. This may sound a little strange to you, but if you are Goldanna, well then… I suppose I'm your brother."

"My what?" Goldanna demanded. She still hadn't invited them in, and she held the door ready to close. "My name's Goldanna, yes, but… what sort of tomfoolery are you up to?"

"Look," Alistair said, getting a hold of his excitement, "our mother, she was a servant at Redcliffe castle, wasn't she? Long ago, before she died. So-"

"You!" Goldanna cried, pointing at him. "I knew it! They told me you was dead. They told me the babe was dead along with Mother, but I knew they was lying!"

"They told you I was dead?" Alistair asked. "Who? Who told you that?"

"Them's at the castle!" Goldanna said, suddenly whisking them inside. The inside of her house was low, dark, and smokey; Elizabeth thought that it had not been cleaned in a while, regardless of linen washing. But at least they were out of the cold, and there were chairs, and she seemed almost as excited as Alistair was. "I knew the babe was the king's, and they said he was dead. Gave me coin to shut my mouth, and sent me on my way. I knew it!"

"I'm sorry, I… didn't know that. I didn't die. I'm… him. Your brother." He shot a shy glance at Elizabeth, who smiled encouragingly at him.

Goldanna suddenly whirled about, turning her back to him. "Ugh, for all the good it did me! You killed Mother with your birth, and I've had to scrape by all this time. Twenty years and more! That coin didn't last long, and when I went back to ask for more, they ran me off!"

Alistair blinked in surprised contemplation. "I'm sorry! But… that's not really my fault, is it? Why are you mad at me? I didn't even know you existed until a few months ago, and then I was becoming a Grey Warden, and…"

"Ooooh," Goldanna said sarcastically, turning to face them and putting her hands on her hips. "A prince and a Grey Warden too, I see, I see. And who am I to think poorly of someone so high and mighty compared to me? I don't know you, boy. Your father forced himself on my mother and took her away from me, and what do I have to show for it? Nothing! They tricked me good! I should have told everyone about you! I've got five young ones to feed, and unless you can help out with that, you're less than useless to me!"

"Alistair came here hoping to find family," Elizabeth tried to persuade her.

"And he found it! Three nieces and two nephews, and me, worked to the bone supporting them all. And what are you going to do about it?"

"I… we don't have a lot of coin to spare," Alistair said. "Grey Wardens don't make a lot…"

"You come marching in here with your fancy armour and expect me to believe that? You must think I'm very stupid."

"If we sold our armour, it would be very difficult to fight the Blight," Elizabeth said coldly.

"And who're you?" Goldanna demanded. "Some tart, following him around for his riches? Shameless filthy whore!" Elizabeth rose to her feet in anger, strode to the door, and slammed it behind her. It was not as well constructed as the door of the tavern in Orzammar, and she felt the whole house shake with a satisfying bang.

"Hey!" Alistair cried. "Don't talk to her that way. She's my friend, and a Grey Warden too!"

Elizabeth couldn't hear much more; shaking with anger, she walked away in the direction of the market. Alistair came jogging to catch up to her a moment later.

"I'm really sorry," he said. "I didn't know… I don't know why we came."

Elizabeth stopped. She had been offended – no one had ever spoken to her that way before in her life, and the insinuation had been more than she could bear, but… Alistair had been cruelly disappointed, and even as he apologized to her, she could see all his hopes crushed in his eyes.

She forced herself to take some deep breaths, calming her heart and her mind, and looked up at her friend. "I'll get over a few ignorant insults. But I'm thinking we should have brought Morrigan after all."

He choked out a miserable laugh. "Haha, yes, maybe. That shrew is my sister?" He was silent a long moment, and they trudged along together. "I… I guess I was expecting her to just accept me without question. Isn't that what family is supposed to do? I feel like a complete idiot."

"You can choose your family too," she said gently. "We're family, now, aren't we? After everything that we've been through?"

He considered that. "Yes, I suppose… I suppose you're right. …Thank you. I'm glad you came with me."

"Thank you for asking me," she said.

.

Leliana took the women shoe shopping the next day, and while there was a little bit of friction between all their different personalities, Elizabeth had to say she had not seen the world from Leliana's fashion-conscious point of view before. She couldn't also say she found it particularly to her taste, but it was something different, and that was what they all needed. And it was amusing to see Shale arguing with a merchant over the colour of her thick leather and wood sandals. Leliana insisted that she get something, that they had enough extra money to spare a little for pretty shoes, and after some hesitating she relented.

They met the men in the afternoon. Zevran had been busy as well; he had gone to Mikhail Dryden a few days before and commissioned a new pair of daggers, and now he proudly showed them off. Sandal had enchanted them, and one was now tinged with frost, and the other made the air shimmer with heat. "I'm going to need them to keep up with you and your… electrifying battle style," he said, winking at Elizabeth.

They were lucky, that day, it seemed – someone finally directed them to a little apartment that belonged to Brother Genitivi, where they were met by his assistant, a pale-faced young man named Weylon, who told them that he hadn't seen Genitivi in months, and fretted that his quest for the Sacred Ashes of Andraste had led him into danger. He said he had seen some of the knights from Redcliffe, and after much cajoling and persuading, told Elizabeth where he had sent them: the inn at the head of Lake Calenhad. He seemed afraid, of something or someone, although it could have been simply the combined effect of Morrigan, Sten, and Shale.

So off they went immediately, tramping across Ferelden yet again with the roads in terrible condition for traveling, to the Lake Calenhad docks and the Spoiled Princess. It took them a week, dodging darkspawn; the Blight was encroaching further and further north, and scouting parties had managed to slip through the Bannorn all the way to the northern highway. They would be probing Highever, soon, Elizabeth knew, and that thought galled her. But for now she could do nothing to stop them, only avoid them – or destroy them when they were few in number.

It turned out that Oghren had a former girlfriend working at the Spoiled Princess, and while he noisily wooed her in front of the whole inn, Elizabeth pulled the innkeeper aside to ask questions.

It was not promising; the innkeeper was obviously trying to dodge her questions. Only when she put on her angry face and bared her teeth a little did he relent, and tell her that "they" had been watching the inn, watching for people who asked after Genitivi. Genitivi himself had not been in the area for several years. She shared a significant look with Alistair across the room, and when everyone had finished their drinks they left as normally as they could.

They had only just got back on to the highway when they were jumped by men in leather armour and dark hoods.

.

Elizabeth stormed into Genitivi's apartment a week later. "You lied to me!"

The assistant turned an interesting shade of pale green. "Er… hello. It's… good to see you alive. Again."

"Cut the crap," Alistair told him. "We just _wasted_ two weeks when we could have been fighting the Blight or saving Arl Eamon or doing something _useful_. Who are you, and who were those men we killed?"

The assistant blanched further. "I-I-I don't know what you're talking about. What men?"

"I think he needs his memory jogged," Shale said. "May I do it? Please?"

"You would probably kill him," Sten said. "While satisfying, it would not be very helpful while we can still get answers out of him."

"Y-you won't take me alive!" the assistant stammered. "I'll tell you nothing!"

"Standing beside me are an Antivan Crow and an Orlesian bard," Elizabeth said. "Between them, you'll tell me everything you need to know." She felt Zevran's wicked grin without looking at him and knew he was hamming it up. Leliana was more stone-faced.

"You really are angry," Morrigan said. "I'm pleasantly surprised. Even a bit impressed."

Something in the assistant's behaviour changed, and he turned and bolted, sending a blast of magic back at them. Elizabeth ducked from the blast and felt a wave of sparks wash over her as the spell hit the wall and detonated. Huan lunged, grabbing him by the leg and bringing him to the floor. The man shrieked and twisted, trying to get away. Shale stomped over to him and smashed his face into the floor.

The man fell limp, blood streaming from his head onto the floor. Shale actually looked somewhat abashed. "Oops. You lot really are squishy, aren't you?" Huan backed away from the body, shaking his head in confusion.

"I… really hope that doesn't count as murder," Alistair said.

"He sent us to a bunch of punk-ass assassins," Oghren barked. "He deserves what he got."

Elizabeth turned to Wynne, Morrigan, Zevran, and Leliana. "Search everything. All of Genitivi's notes, books, maps, amulets… anything he could possibly have that would give us a clue."

Two days later, they had a map of the southwestern Frostback Mountains, proof that the assistant had been an imposter and the real Weylon was dead, and a name: Haven.

.

It took them a round two weeks just to make it to the southern Frostback Mountains. Bodhan and Sandal had stayed in Denerim, claiming – probably correctly, in Sten's opinion – that they would only slow them down. Once there, they had to then actually find the village of Haven. They wandered so long that the snow began to melt; it was still not exactly warm, and it was horrifically muddy, equally difficult to travel in, and a lot less pretty than it had been while covered in snow. One valley looked much like another, all deep ravines with masses of deep green pine trees and sometimes a small lake at the bottom. If it hadn't been for Morrigan, they would have been hopelessly lost and given up long before. They also ran short on food and had to supplement their diet with whatever they could hunt in the snow or mud, slowing them down further.

Tempers were not entirely even during the trip, either. Wynne and Morrigan nearly came to blows, or spells, and Zevran pestered Wynne to tears until Elizabeth told him sharply to behave himself. But as for her own relationship with Zevran, it stayed fairly steady. They somehow had many things to talk about, and he spent most of his time cracking wise to keep up the spirits of those who cared to listen.

But as for almost everyone else, it was a very silent group that made camp every evening and broke camp every morning.

It also made for strange conversations when someone did break the silence. "What do you suppose she sees in him, anyway?" Alistair asked Leliana one day, apparently not caring that both Elizabeth and Zevran were well within earshot.

Leliana smiled. "He's handsome enough for some. Why?"

"Oh, no reason. Don't you think it's a bit much? The hair, the… tattoos… the snarking…"

"I'm not sure I understand. A bit too much what? Do you have a problem with him?"

"Beyond the fact that he's an assassin who's tried to kill us more than once – and I'm totally including those antics with the log and the river from the other day in the 'trying to kill us' category – no, not really." Leliana snorted. "Do women really go for that sort of thing?" Alistair asked, sounding honestly baffled.

"Where I come from, oh yes, they do," Leliana assured him with amusement. "Yes, he's a bad boy, but haven't you noticed she's a lot brighter in mood now than she was even a couple months ago? And, if I'm not imagining things, he is, too."

"Really? Huh. It's just… she's been brought up pretty sheltered, and I feel like he's seducing her."

"And those blushing cheeks tell me you don't actually mind imagining such a scenario," Morrigan said. Elizabeth flushed and pretended even harder that she wasn't listening.

Alistair glared at her. "These blushing cheeks are just worried you're going to suck the blood out of them," he muttered.

"If I feel the need to suck on _anything_ of yours, Alistair, I assure you, you will be the first to know," Morrigan retorted.

Alistair blinked and wrinkled his nose in horror. "That… was so not what I meant."

"I almost wish I was back in my annoying village surrounded by annoying villagers and those vermin of the sky," Shale growled, and everyone shut up.

.

And the next day, Elizabeth left her tent and nearly bumped into two meters of glowering Qunari. "Sten?"

"What exactly are we doing here?" Sten demanded. "I have followed you through these mountains and we have wasted almost as much time here as we spent gathering our allies before. Is this Arl worth so much to you?"

Elizabeth looked at him tiredly. "We've come this far."

"We could have been fighting the Blight. You have your army. You could even seize the army of that Arl to add it to your own."

"The political situation-" Wynne began.

"Is nothing compared to the fact that the darkspawn run rampant across your lands and you hide in the mountains looking for fairy tales!"

Elizabeth let out a slow breath and moved away from getting loomed over. "I'm frustrated about it too. But I will not give up on this. If you wish to return to Ferelden to take a more direct role, I will wish you well."

"Unacceptable," Sten said, unslinging his maul from his back. "You and the boy are the only Grey Wardens in this realm. Has it not been said many times that, for whatever reason, you are the only ones who can defeat this invasion? You are not making good decisions so I shall make them for you."

Her heart pounded. "Are you going to attack me?"

Instead of being answered, she had to dodge to one side; the maul thudded into the ground behind her. She was shaking. That had been a full-powered swing. She had fought a couple of Qunari on their journey, but Sten was better than the random mercenaries they had encountered, and… she didn't want to hurt him.

Zevran and Huan were trying to come to her aid, but Alistair, slack-jawed in apprehension, was holding Huan back. Sten simply knocked Zevran aside as if he wasn't even there and continued advancing on Elizabeth, who kept backing away.

"Draw your sword!" Sten shouted. "Attack me! Prove to me that you are a warrior and not just a woman!" He swung the maul again, lunging forward with terrifying speed, and Elizabeth almost fell over backwards getting away. "I know you are no coward. Stop running!"

"I don't want to fight you!" she cried. "Why are you doing this!?"

"Worthless dog! I will not follow you as you run from your true battle! Weak mewling princess! Empty-headed quim!"

Elizabeth's eyes blazed and she drew her sword; not even bothering with her shield, she ran at him. She sidestepped his first attack, blocked his second, counterattacked and was blocked, blocked his counter-counter attack, and the maul clove in two at the head.

She stood with her sword wreathed in lightning and pointed at his throat. "You wouldn't kill me. If I'm one of the Grey Wardens who are the only hope of the country, what did you hope to accomplish by that? To scare me into returning to Denerim and gathering my allies? To let you lead?"

He shook his head, and to her surprise, smiled, grim though it was. "I still owe you a life-debt. I would not kill you for that alone. I had to see that you had the strength to see this through."

She blinked, frowned, sheathed her sword and walked off. As she passed Alistair she threw his errant sock, found in her bedroll, at him.

Zevran breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm rather glad I didn't have to stab anyone on our side today."

.

It was an overcast, dismal day a couple days later that they stumbled upon a path that led them to a tiny cluster of huts, which made Alistair brighten if only in anticipation of getting something 'normal' to eat.

There was a guard at the gate, which Elizabeth found odd in a village so small, and he did not look pleasant. "Be off with you, travelers. There is nothing for you here."

Elizabeth got the feeling that being direct with someone so unwelcoming would end poorly. "Can we not at least trade for supplies? We have been low on food for weeks. What place is this?"

"This is the village of Haven," the guard said.

"I've never heard of it," Alistair lied. "Why do you live out here?"

"Our ways are not the ways of the lowlanders. We keep to ourselves. It's more peaceful that way."

Alistair nodded understandingly. "About buying food…"

"We have little enough to spare after the winter, but such as we have you can trade for at the shop. Keep to the road and leave when you're done."

"Such a charming place," Alistair said sarcastically. "I can't think why anyone wouldn't want to visit."

The feeling that something was wrong only grew as they entered the village and turned up the road towards the shop. Every person they saw stared at them in a hostile, suspicious manner, even the children. If she wasn't mistaken, she also detected suspicious movement; they all looked as if they were trying to act casual, but some of them were slipping away. "They are hiding something, that much is obvious," Morrigan said quietly. "I wonder what these not-lowlander ways are that he spoke of?"

"They're clearly against things like smiling and small talk," Alistair said. "Cheery lot, wonder if they've ever heard a joke?"

"Would you like me to pop their joke cherry?" Zevran inquired.

"Best not to," Leliana said. "They look like they're just waiting for an excuse to attack us with scythes and pitchforks."

"We can take 'em," Oghren said. "Buncha… whaddya call them? Peasants."

"You would be correct," Morrigan said. "But I believe our fearless leader would prefer to avoid bloodshed, even if it is inefficient."

Elizabeth said nothing. Provoking her friends would only provoke the villagers. Although… they seemed to be doing that just fine on their own.

"I suppose we probably shouldn't mention our real reason for being here?" Oghren said without even trying to lower his voice.

"Are you trying to get us attacked?" Elizabeth said sharply.

"Most of the village is following us," Zevran whispered to her. "It might be advantageous to find a place to retreat to, for their sake as well as ours."

"I agree," Elizabeth said. "There's a small hut past the shop. We'll go there until we can find some way to defuse the situation and learn more."

Morrigan clicked her tongue. "You can't defuse zealots. 'Tis a futile endeavour. But I suppose we now know what happened to our missing Chantry scholar."

The villagers roared and charged.

"Go!" Elizabeth shouted. "Knock them down if you must. Don't kill the children!" She lingered a moment; she could knock them down more easily with her shield. Huan, Sten, and Shale stayed with her. "What are you doing? They have weapons!" The adults had rusted swords, boathooks, farm tools; even the smallest children were armed with knives; all of them snarled at the three like wild animals. The gate guard was there, the only one with a proper weapon, a spear. Elizabeth had never seen such bloodrage from such ordinary-looking people, and she was more frightened by that than by any evaluation of their martial abilities.

"They will not hurt me," Sten said. "I will help you defend our rearguard."

"I hope it is not concerned about me," Shale said.

"In your case I am much more concerned for them," Elizabeth said.

"You should probably cease such foolish thoughts," Sten said. "They are trying to kill us, children or no children. You should stop them."

"They don't know any better," Elizabeth said, retreating in the direction of the hut. The others had already disappeared inside. She dashed in, followed by Sten, who slammed the door. Shale stood outside, barring the door more securely than anything they could have done on their own. Elizabeth heard improvised weapons splintering on the golem's body, a few thudding noises, and then the sound of the villagers retreating.

"They will regroup," Alistair said. "Isn't this a nice pickle? How are we going to learn anything in this place? Without killing them all, I mean?"

"I don't know, you could… kill them all," Morrigan suggested, making a show of thinking deeply.

"What's this?" Leliana cried from the back of the hut, where no one had looked yet. Her voice was shocked. "It's… the body of a knight from Redcliffe; here's the red castle emblem on his tunic. And over here…"

"That appears to be human blood," Morrigan said.

"How do you know?" Wynne asked sharply.

"I simply know," Morrigan said. "I also know that no human can lose that much blood and live."

"How awful," Leliana said.

Sten had found the knight's belongings. "I will take this warrior's weapon. He will not mind it being used on the ones who murdered him."

Shale opened the door. "You might be interested to know that the apparent leader of this village is in the chantry up the hill. The ones who attacked us intend to go tell him we are here."

"Let's go to him before they do, then," Elizabeth said. "He might be more willing to talk. Or he might not."

"His death will not pacify these villagers," Alistair warned her. "It might only stir them up even more."

"The chantry will be more easily defensible than this place," Elizabeth said. "I don't want to hurt them, but surely they must know that attacking us is suicide."

"Many folk will go to great lengths to protect what they believe in," Morrigan said. "Even court death directly, knowingly or not. I can't say I wouldn't mind putting them in their place, even though I care nothing for their beliefs… or yours."

"Let's go now," Elizabeth said, letting Morrigan's comment pass. Under Shale's cover, they jogged up the steep hill until they reached a building that was not exactly as Elizabeth was expecting, but still recognizable as a chantry.

Alistair and Zevran rushed the door, flinging it open and taking the people inside by surprise. As Elizabeth followed them in, she saw that they had interrupted a sermon – and there were at least as many people here as had attacked them in the village.

"Braska," Zevran muttered from beside her. She straightened and did her best teyrn swagger up to the priest giving the sermon – the male priest. She had seen brothers, but she had never seen a male priest before. Men weren't allowed to become priests.

The priest looked up, and though his face was startled and angry, he at least wasn't screaming and attacking them with a candlestick. "Yes? How dare you interrupt our service?"

"Your people attacked us without warning or provocation, Father," Elizabeth said sternly. "We do not wish to hurt anyone, so we have come here to ask you to tell them to stand down." Behind her, she heard Sten and Oghren close the door.

"We are a shy people, and we do not like outsiders," the priest said. "We would fight to protect our privacy and our ways. For what reason have you come?"

Elizabeth's gaze hardened. "Would you also murder? We have come to find Brother Ferdinand Genitivi, nothing more. You may keep your traditions. We want nothing to do with them."

"You would change us simply by being here," the priest said, his face growing dark. "Your very presence brings us danger. You will reveal us to the wicked world outside!"

"How dare you question Father Eirik?" cried one of the villagers.

There was a pounding on the door. "Father Eirik! Father Eirik! Are you all right?"

"You are outnumbered," the priest said. "Lay down your arms and we will allow you to leave unharmed if you swear never to reveal our existence."

"I don't believe you," Elizabeth said shortly. "Tell me what happened to Genitivi, and we might leave."

The priest raised his arms. "Destroy these invaders, my people!"

More than one member of their party offered up a curse of one kind or another, but Morrigan walked forward calmly, pointed her gnarled black staff at Eirik, and blasted him off his feet with a bolt of lightning. "Any questions?"

The villagers screamed and rushed them.

"Are we still trying not to kill children?" Zevran asked. "They don't seem to have any qualms about trying to kill us."

"If at all possible, do not kill children," Elizabeth ordered.

"I mean, that really is Social Interaction for Beginners," Alistair quipped, knocking over a woman with his shield and kicking her husband in the groin.

"I'll be sure to make a note of that," Morrigan said dryly. "Although I am quite certain this counts as Martial Interaction and not Social Interaction."

"Isn't Martial Interaction a type of Social Interaction?" Zevran asked.

"How about all you philosophers silence yourselves and concentrate on getting us out of here alive?" Wynne said, irritated.

It was only a few minutes before the villagers broke and fled, some of them jumping out the windows to get away from the powerful group. They left a dozen dead, including the priest, and several more unconscious or badly injured. Wynne went to help them, with Oghren guarding her in case they got any more ideas.

"Wonderful," Alistair said. "Now how are we going to find out what happened to Genitivi?"

"Hold a moment," Leliana called. "There is something here. A secret door, perhaps?" She tapped part of the wall, found a loose spot, and pushed it aside.

"Good eye," Wynne said, finished with her ministrations.

"It was not that difficult to find… The floor has been scuffed, and the wall doesn't quite look right. …Oh dear."

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked, coming quickly to her side.

A balding man lay curled on the floor, dressed in plain clothes. At the sound of their voices, he opened his eyes, and then grimaced in pain.

Elizabeth went to him. "Are you injured, ser?"

"My leg," gasped the man. "I can't feel my foot."

"The leg will heal in time," Morrigan told him, "but the foot may need to come off."

He sighed. "I was afraid you'd say that. But if the foot goes, it goes."

"Nonsense," Wynne scoffed. "Let me have a look at that."

"Thank you for your kindness," the man said. "I take it you're not of the villagers."

"No indeed," Elizabeth said. "And I take it neither are you."

"I am Brother Ferdinand Genitivi, from Denerim. I was… trying… to research the Sacred Ashes of Andraste." He winced as Wynne prodded his leg, but she then raised her staff and with a glow of blue light, cast a healing spell. "Ah, thank you. That feels so much better! As I was saying, I believe I am close to Andraste's final resting place; however, all there is to be found in this place is blasphemy. They kept me alive because they believed that my knowledge, as different as it is from theirs, might be useful to them, I believe. What brings you here?"

"We were actually looking for you," Elizabeth said. "The Arl of Redcliffe lies in a coma, and his wife believes that only the Ashes will cure him."

"The Arl of Redcliffe? He is a noble soul. How did he become ill?"

"He was poisoned on the orders of Teyrn Loghain."

"Politics," muttered Genitivi. "Never did anyone any good. And that explains why certain knights were ambushed by these cultists. Eirik, the village father, told me about it. He seemed so self-righteous, so smug, that he had tortured and killed these men. But the Ashes will certainly cure him, if we can find them. Let me come with you. There is an ancient temple up on one of these mountains, I believe, but the only way to get to them is through a network of caves controlled by the cultists. I know how to enter those caves."

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "Is your leg well? Can you walk?"

"I can walk well enough… some assistance would be greatly appreciated, however."

He leaned on Alistair's shoulder, and led them out of the Chantry and up the mountain until they reached a shallow cave in the mountainside. A large, old-looking carven stone door was at the back of the cave.

"How did you find this place in the first place?" Wynne asked.

"Pure chance. I wasn't even expecting to find any village here, at first. I had thought that the temple that housed the Sacred Ashes was simply lost to time. It took years of study simply to narrow my search to this part of the mountains. Then, I found a mention in the Chantry business records of a village called Haven that was not on any map, so I decided to come see if they knew anything. It seems they know all too much, and are not willing to share."

"We looked through your notes," Leliana said. "You led us to this area as well, although we searched half the winter to find anything that might be a Haven."

"Did not Weyland, my assistant, help you?"

"I'm afraid your assistant is dead," Wynne said gently. "Whoever we met was an imposter, probably sent by the cultists to direct people into more ambushes. It was quite elaborate."

"Oh dear," Genitivi said. "I… I am sorry to hear that. Weyland was a good lad, so eager to help with my dull work."

"If it's any consolation, the cultist who impersonated him is also dead," Morrigan offered.

"I suppose… that is something; no one else will be fooled and murdered, though I regret the loss of life… Now, let me see. Eirik had a medallion that could open this door."

"I have it here," Leliana said. "It looked important so I took it."

"Perfect." Genitivi took the medallion and did something twisty with it and an indentation on the stone door. With a final, gentle push, there was a click and the door swung open, revealing a vast cavern. At first glance, it looked like a naturally-formed cathedral of Orlais – Elizabeth had seen pictures like it in books. But as she looked closer, she noticed certain formations that were too regular to have been formed only by nature. The floor under piles of debris and still-unmelted snow was too level, and the pillars that reached to the roof were carved in curious fashions. The windows had the shape of pointed arches and light streamed in through them, showing the place in all its ruined beauty.

A dozen men hurried forward from the back of the hall, saw that they were not from the village, and yelled as they attacked. They were accompanied by knee-high lizards.

"Hm," Geniviti said after the fighting was over. "It seems there are more cultists up here, trained as soldiers. I… think I will stay here and let you go on ahead."

"Will you be safe here?" Elizabeth asked. "Someone can stay with you."

"I will lock the door behind us, and if you kill all the cultists you find, I should be fine."

"It's a bit of a risk, but if they have more baby dragons, it might be a good idea to have everyone with us," Alistair said. "Unless… umm…"

"You're not trying to decide who might stay behind, are you?" Leliana said. "I for one have no intention of staying behind. And the others might get bored."

"Wynne might be able to, she likes studying things…"

"Wynne is invaluable to our fights, though," Leliana said. "If someone gets unlucky and badly injured, she's the only one who can save them." Wynne nodded slowly.

"All right, all right," Alistair said. "Just… let's be careful, all right?"

"I thank you for your concern," Genitivi said. "Be careful yourselves. Don't become too distracted by the beauty of this place."

"Not a problem," Shale grunted.

"An ancient temple full of cultists… I wonder if there is any treasure here?" Zevran mused.

"Don't get distracted by that either," Oghren said. "What's the hold-up? We've got a dead wench to dig up!"

"Er…" Leliana narrowed her eyes at the dwarf, who simply chuckled and took another swig from his flask.

They set off to explore the caves beyond the great hall, but there were a lot of them, and they returned to the entrance as night fell to make camp. The next day they went farther; they guessed that there was a camp of cultists further up the mountain, as they kept finding more, and also young dragons who seemed to be friendly with the cultists. Alistair hoped nervously that they didn't meet any adult dragons, while Oghren laughed and prayed that they'd get the chance to fight one.

The caves wound higher and higher in the mountain, narrow tunnels with the occasional crack to the outside letting in a beam of natural light. They came across a natural cavern with a wide entrance through which daylight streamed… and what looked like a small army of cultists.

The leader, an imposing man with an impressive beard, took a step towards them. "Stop! You will go no further. You have defiled our temple, spilled the blood of the faithful, and slaughtered our young."

"Those dragonlings, you mean?" Morrigan scoffed. "Many people feel protective of the weak, helpless, and adorable, even of other species, but calling them your children ought to be restricted to crazy old women."

"Enough! You will tell me why you have done this, intruder!"

"We seek the Ashes of Andraste," Elizabeth said frankly. "We would have come in peace, but your people attacked us."

"You seek that old relic? Know this, stranger… I am Father Kolgrim, leader of the Disciples of Andraste." His eyes began to gleam with a fervent light. "The prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to Her faithful in a form more radiant than you can possibly imagine! Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay Her now! What hope would you have?"

"What form has Andraste taken?" asked Elizabeth, hoping to keep him talking and get some answers.

"None but the Disciples of Andraste may approach Her. She is not ready yet. But when the time is right, She will descend upon the nations in fiery splendour, and all will know Her." He narrowed his eyes at Elizabeth. "If you truly come in peace, then perhaps there is a way to make up for your recent transgressions."

Elizabeth looked warily at Leliana and Alistair. If there was something that would make up for the slaying of half a cult, she didn't want to know what it was. "How so?"

"I believe in second chances," Kolgrim said grandly. "All of us stumble through the darkness before being found and shown the light."

"Very wise," Wynne said suspiciously.

"And Andraste's mercy guides me. It may be that Her greatest enemy to date may become Her greatest champion!"

"Cut to the chase," Oghren said. "What's the deal?"

"Atop this mountain lie the remains of the mortal Andraste. Ashes, contained within an urn, guarded by an immortal spirit guardian and many traps. He is mired in the past and refuses to accept the risen Andraste. Right now, the Ashes prevent holy Andraste from fully realizing Her new form. They are a remnant of Her past incarnation, and She cannot move on while they still exist. She must reclaim them, and make them Her own again. All it would take would be one drop of Her blood. Blood carries power, strength, knowledge. Through it, the power that is held in the Ashes will be returned to Our Lady. But the Guardian foils all our attempts to reach the Urn. His strength is drawn from the Ashes themselves."

"This is preposterous," Leliana said. "He speaks of blood and power and I do not like it. You truly think Andraste is reborn?"

"I will not do this," Elizabeth said. "I seek the Ashes to cure a sick man, and while I do not wish you ill, I do not share in your beliefs."

"You only need a small pinch of the Ashes for that. You could take that and still do us this service, to receive great rewards: knowledge, and a share in Andraste's power and a place as our blessed brothers and sisters."

"I do not need that," Elizabeth said. "I will not do as you ask."

"Then we cannot allow you to leave here alive," Kolgrim said, unslinging a great battleaxe from his back and getting into a fighting posture. "To arms, my brothers! Andraste will grant us victory!"

"Ha! Come on, then!" Oghren grunted, rushing forward with his own axe. "You think the likes of you is going to beat me?"

The fight was fierce and drawn out. There were two mages with Kolgrim, and they sent ice and magical curses at the companions. Morrigan transformed into a giant bear and went to maul them, but not before Zevran fell back, clutching at his head as if it was going to burst. Alistair took an arrow to his flank, and his opponent would have gravely wounded him, maybe even killed him, if not for Leliana's shooting. Elizabeth attacked the archers, screaming "stop hurting my friends!" Shale was right behind her, scattering them like bowling pins.

Oghren and Kolgrim were locked in combat; Oghren was the better fighter, but Kolgrim had a lot of reach on him. Oghren began roaring furiously, apparently to make himself more angry or maybe to intimidate Kolgrim. He seemed to trip and stumble, and Kolgrim pressed his advantage eagerly, and no one looked more surprised than him when Oghren lopped off his head.

They cautiously exited the cave, looking around for an ambush or a trap. Sten was the first to notice, halting them with a gesture of his arm and a finger pointing towards a distant cliff ledge.

A large High dragon with magenta colouring slept on a cliff directly overhanging the path to the temple entrance. "That must be their Andraste," Alistair murmured. "She's not really as radiant as they said she was… Let's not waken her."

As stealthily as they could, they crept by, keeping to the shadows of the ruins between the cave and the temple. When the last person – Shale, who was taking care of her heavy tread – had passed into the temple, they allowed themselves to relax a little.

"Brother Genitivi would probably like to come up," Wynne said. "I wonder if it can be done without waking the dragon?"

"We passed the dragon once, and we'll have to do it again coming down," Leliana said. "Let's not be more noticeable than we have to. He can come back later when his foot is better."

"That leader said they had not been able to go far into the temple, so there is probably no need for force of arms," Elizabeth said. "Morrigan, Shale, you are not interested in sightseeing, are you?"

"I am not interested in the slightest," Morrigan said. "Perhaps I shall go kill the dragon while the rest of you lollygaggle."

"I'm not into powdered dead chicks," Oghren said. "I'll stay here too."

In the end, it was Elizabeth, Leliana, Wynne, Alistair, and Huan who turned to head deeper into the temple, while the others sat down to rest near the door. After a moment, Elizabeth turned and found Zevran had followed them as well. He gave her a smile, which she returned briefly.

They reached the door at the end of the hall, but as they approached it, an armoured man became visible out of thin air. He held out a hand to stop them. "I bid you welcome, pilgrims. I am the Guardian, the protector of the Urn of Sacred Ashes. I have waited a very long time for this."

"For us?" Alistair asked in surprise.

"For pilgrims to visit. The ones who call themselves the Disciples are not true pilgrims, and I assume it is them I have to thank for the lack of true believers in this place. It is my duty and my life to protect the Urn and prepare the way for faithful who come to revere Andraste. For years beyond counting I have been here, and I will remain until my task is done and the Imperium has crumbled into the sea."

"So the dragon is definitely not Andraste," Zevran asked.

"No. Our Andraste has gone to the Maker's side, never to return. I suppose the misguided Disciples saw it as an alternative to an absent Maker and a silent Andraste. A true believer, however, would not require such displays of power."

"We have come to ask for aid for a very sick man," Elizabeth said. "I do not want to say deathly ill, but he has been in a coma for months after poisoning and an incident with a demon."

"If you prove yourself worthy, you will pass the tests of the Temple and come before the Urn to honour Andraste," said the guardian. "You may then take a pinch of the Ashes, no more."

"And if we do not prove worthy?" Alistair asked anxiously.

"The unworthy are not allowed to come before Andraste. It often occurs that those rejected become… violent, and must be put down."

"Er. I'll be good," Alistair said meekly.

"Are you ready to begin the trials?" asked the guardian.

Elizabeth looked at the others, and they all nodded.

The guardian fixed Elizabeth with his distant stare and she restrained the urge to shuffle awkwardly in place. "I see the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past, your suffering, and that of others. You abandoned your mother and father to the hands of Rendon Howe, knowing he would show no mercy." Elizabeth tensed, pricked in the heart – she had not thought the guardian would know about her past, let alone bring it up. "Do you think you failed your parents?"

For a moment she could not speak at all. She didn't know the answer. They had told her to go, but… "Yes. I… I should have stayed and defended them, even though I would have died at their side."

"Thank you. That is all I wished to know," he said, and turned to Alistair. "Alistair, knight, and Warden. You wonder if things would have been different, if you had been with Duncan on the battlefield. You could have shielded him from the killing blow."

"I… yes," Alistair said slowly, the words falling thickly from his tongue. "If Duncan had been saved, and not me, everything would be better. If I'd just had the chance, maybe I'd…"

Wynne saved the young man from further pain. "Ask your question, guardian. I am ready."

"Very well. You are a worthy advisor, always ready with a word of wisdom. Do you wonder if you spout only platitudes, burned into your mind in the distant past? Perhaps you are only a tool, used to spread the word of the Circle and the Chantry. Does doubt ever chip away at your truths?"

"You frame the statement in the form of a question," Wynne said calmly. "Yet you already know our answers. There is no sense in hiding, is there. Yes, I do doubt at times; only the fool is completely certain of himself."

"And you," the guardian said, turning to Leliana, who looked at her feet nervously. "Why do you say the Maker speaks to you, when all know that the Maker has left? He spoke only to Andraste. Do you believe yourself Her equal?"

"I never said that," Leliana said, upset and hurt. "I-"

"In Orlais you were someone," said the guardian. "In Lothering, you feared you would lose yourself; become a drab Sister, and disappear. When your brothers and sisters of the cloister criticized you for what you professed, you were hurt, but you also reveled in it. It made you special. You enjoyed the attention, even if it was negative."

"You're saying that I made it all up for the… for the attention? I did not," Leliana said angrily. "I know what I believe."

The guardian removed his gaze from her and transferred it to Zevran. "And the Antivan elf."

"Oh, is it my turn now?" Zevran said, with sarcastic, deadpan non-enthusiasm. "Hurrah! I am so excited."

"Many have died at your hand," said the guardian placidly. "But is there any you regret more than a woman-"

"How do you know about that?" Zevran snapped, interrupting him.

"I know much," said the guardian reprovingly. "It is allowed to me. You may keep it to yourself, but the question stands. Do you regret?"

"Yes. The answer is yes." Zevran crossed his arms, answering quickly and angrily. "If that's what you wish to know, I do. Now let's move on."

"The way is open," said the guardian, and began to vanish in a pale glow. "Good luck, and may you find what you seek."

Slightly shaken, except perhaps for Wynne and Huan, they passed through the now-open door and into another chamber, seemingly full of spirits. They asked questions constantly of the air, their whispers creating a low buzz through the room.

Alistair went up to one. "I think this is some kind of quiz."

"I knew he said there would be trials, but I wasn't expecting an exam," Zevran tried to joke. "I hope someone here has studied."

"Let me," Leliana said. "Whether or not you believe me to be sincere, I know the Chant. I can answer these questions."

And she did so, with the occasional word from the others, and one by one, the ghosts vanished and the farther door opened a little bit wider with each one.

The next room was spacious, with a high ceiling and a sandy floor. Zevran toed at it. "It almost looks like a gladiatorial arena, except with no spectators."

"Oh, how lovely of you to point that out," Alistair said, as ghostly versions of each of them appeared. "Now we have to 'conquer ourselves' and all that."

"Damn, I'm gorgeous," Zevran said, licking his lips. "Magnificent. Look how I move!"

"We know," Wynne said sharply. "We all get to see you every day."

"My darling Wynne, do you not also get to finally see your own beauty without the use of a mirror?"

"Focus," Elizabeth commanded. "If they're half as smart as we are, this is going to be difficult. Alistair, with me. Watch for arrows." So saying, she charged at herself, who was charging at her.

Her doppelganger crashed into her. She wasn't quite expecting the weight and momentum of the slight, ghostly figure, and fell on her back, instantly having to defend against fierce stabs from a ghostly Starfang.

There was a pained grunt and a crash from beside her, and Alistair was smashed into the wall by a flying rock, summoned by the enemy Wynne. The spirit Alistair turned to assault her as well, assisting the spirit Elizabeth, and she was very hard-pressed to defend herself; she was actually starting to fear for her life in a way she hadn't for quite some time. Leliana was shooting them, but her arrows did not seem to have much of an effect. Huan and spirit Huan were circling each other, occasionally lunging, but neither was doing much damage.

"Their teamwork is circumstantial!" Wynne said. "We must isolate them and destroy them one by one." Then an arrow from the ghostly Leliana struck her in the leg and she fell to the floor.

Zevran was still fighting himself on the other side of the room, and she would have watched him with great interest if she hadn't been so busy. There was a poofing sound, and it seemed he had worked his way around to the spirit Wynne and eliminated her. Alistair was still climbing to his feet, looking very dazed from the rock he had taken to the chest.

Leliana shot the ghostly Huan, and it vanished into thin air. The real Huan immediately turned and flung itself on the ghostly Alistair, dragging it away from Elizabeth, giving her an opportunity to strike away her double's sword and clamber swiftly to her feet. Leliana turned to help Wynne, who was working on healing herself, and Alistair rushed to help Zevran with the ghost Zevran and Leliana.

Huan howled in pain; it seemed the ghost Alistair had managed to shake him off and stab him. Elizabeth gave a cry of anger and cut through the spirit Elizabeth's defenses, seeming to stab directly through the ghostly ironbark armour. The spirit fizzled out into mist around her sword, and she ran through it to charge at the ghost Alistair, who turned to receive her.

He was bigger than her, just like the real Alistair, and he was about on par with her skills as well. She battled him for several moments, until she ducked to avoid a sweep of his sword and Leliana's arrow struck him in the eye, making him vanish.

Zevran seemed to have defeated the other Zevran, and Alistair the other Leliana, and Elizabeth and Wynne hurried to help Huan, who was lying in a patch of bloody sand.

"Huan will live," Wynne said after a moment of inspection. "Give me a moment and he will be able to travel, though I would suggest keeping him from fighting for a few days." She raised her staff, concentrating.

"It might be difficult," Elizabeth said, smiling and patting her rejuvenated dog's head as he panted at her. "I'll have to tie him to Leliana."

Zevran dropped down beside her, resting back on his hands and stretching out his long legs. "We… are ridiculously awesome." She had to laugh at that.

They rested a moment, hoping that there would not be any more battles like that.

The next room was more of a hallway, so narrow they could only enter one at a time. As Elizabeth entered, the door quietly closed behind her. She tensed, her hand going to her sword at her side, even though there would be no room to draw or wield it.

This was a test of faith, wasn't it? If she trusted in Andraste and the Maker, she would be fine. So she strode forward with a confident step.

Until the room widened out and she saw the man standing there. He turned to face her. "My dearest child…"

"Father!" The cry was torn from her. She ran to him, but stopped just short of launching herself into his arms, nor did he open them for her.

"You know that I am gone, and all your prayers and tears will not bring me back." His voice was his own, kindly, sympathetic, and inexorable. "No more must you grieve, my girl. Take the pain and the guilt, acknowledge it, and let it go. It is time. You have such a long road ahead of you. You have overcome so much, but more still waits you. You must be prepared. And so… take this with you. It will help you." He smiled a little, holding out a small silver amulet, and dropped it into her outstretched hands. "The last gift I can give you, Beth."

She fell to her knees. "Father… I miss you and Mother so much… Fergus, Gilmore, Nan, Oriana, Oren… Everyone… I'm sorry I couldn't save you…" She leaned on her hands, tears splashing from her eyes on the cold stones of the floor.

"But you will save Ferelden. Be strong, pup. We're all so proud of you. And we'll always love you." She looked up through her tear-blurred vision, to see her father fading away into mist with a strong smile on his face. Was it her imagination or did he wink at her? As if he had some hopeful secret?

She clutched the amulet to her chest. She was not letting this one go, no matter what. It was silver, so polished on the back as to be a mirror, and an archaic symbol of the Chantry on the front. She pulled the chain around her neck and stumbled through to the next room.

One by one, the others joined her. They all looked varying degrees of disturbed or anguished. Alistair had apparently out-wrestled Zevran for the chance to follow her, and he came and sat next to her against the wall. "I… I saw Duncan's spirit. Did you… see anyone?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Who was it?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said, tears flowing again.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Alistair put a friendly arm around her. "Your family?"

She nodded silently, and he squeezed her shoulder.

Zevran was a long time in appearing, and to all appearances he looked fine. She didn't have the strength to make eye contact and look closer, but she knew him well enough that she knew he was not fine. Wynne was more affected, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and Leliana emerged with a deathly pale face.

Huan bounded through happily and ran up to her, slobbering all over her face. She choked a laugh, especially when Alistair made a disgusted noise and tried to ward off the dog. She gave Huan a big hug and climbed to her feet. "Well, we're all here. Now, how do we get across this chasm?"

The last test was apparently a test of wits, pulling switches to make pieces of a bridge appear seemingly out of thing air. "I suppose Andraste only favoured the clever," Zevran quipped sarcastically. "Leliana, move to the third switch on your left."

They emerged into a chapel-like hall, with a wall of flames burning high in front of them. Beyond was a great raised platform, as if for a king's throne, but at the top under a statue of Andraste with a flame flickering in her hand was only a tall white urn. In front of the fire wall was an altar with an inscription on it. Elizabeth drew closer, reading aloud the surprisingly-legible words: "Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar, be born anew in the Maker's sight."

"So… we have to undress?" Zevran suggested with a salacious grin. Wynne and Leliana glared at him, and he shrugged.

"It seems so," Elizabeth said. "Surely Andraste will not smite us for preserving our modesty, however. I… don't wish to go completely naked."

"Er, good," Alistair said, quite red. "Me either. If She does smite us, I'm totally blaming you."

"I think it must be symbolic, besides the ritual purification aspect," Leliana said. "Andraste was burned, and we follow in Her footsteps."

"I think you are quite right," Wynne said. "I only wish… it is so cold in here… Could we not be purified and burned with our clothes on?"

Elizabeth was already working at her boots. Zevran was the first finished, to no one's surprise, and approached the fire with a pensive look. "If this doesn't work I will be even hotter than usual for a short period of time."

Elizabeth was finally divested of everything except her underclothes, even the amulet she had been given. She was flushed despite the cold air in the temple and the goosebumps on her skin, feeling eyes on her – Zevran stared unabashed, but he was not the only one checking her out – and she did not make eye contact with anyone, chanting to herself mentally "this is not strange at all, perfectly normal, not strange at all…"

She took a breath before she could falter and walked through the fire. It gave her a bit of a tickling sensation, and it was warm, but it did not harm her. She could have danced when she got to the other side, but restrained herself. Just because she had given up her clothes did not mean she had given up her dignity. Huan dithered in front of the fire a moment before leaping through and trotting anxiously to join her.

She felt hands on her shoulders and jumped, but it was only Zevran, who laughed at her. She shook her head at him, trying not to look at his strong, lean, tattooed body, and the others finally made it across.

There was a flash of light, and the guardian appeared. "You have been through all the trials of the Gauntlet, you have walked the path of Andraste, and like Her you have been cleansed. You have proven yourselves worthy, pilgrims."

"Can we have our clothes back now?" Alistair asked, wrapping his arms around himself.

"You may approach the Sacred Ashes. If you wish to take a pinch, you may." He handed Elizabeth a small, white silk purse and vanished.

Elizabeth approached the steps up to the Urn, Leliana beside her. "I… I don't know what to say. I never thought I might be… I have no words to express myself!" Leliana exclaimed.

"I do," Zevran said. "Congratulations, you found a fancy pot. I should get one for my house."

"Zevran," Wynne scolded. "I know you're only here to keep an eye on Elizabeth. Behave yourself."

"I passed the tests, didn't I? I am as well behaved as you are, Madam Wynne."

"I could not have asked for a greater honour than to be here," Wynne said to Elizabeth. "Thank you for letting me come."

Alistair's eyes were round. "By the Maker… we're really here. It just sank in, you know? But… we're really here."

Elizabeth knelt in front of the Urn, and Leliana, Wynne and Alistair did as well. Zevran followed, apparently not wanting to be left out. Elizabeth offered the bag to Leliana, who held her breath, lifted the lid on the urn, pinched a tiny amount of dust from the top, and brushed it from her fingers into the bag before replacing the lid and breathing again.

"We did it," Alistair said reverently. "We really did it."

.

They returned to the others as quickly as they could after passing back through the fire and putting their clothes and armour back on. From there, they snuck out under the dragon's nose again and back into the tunnels, back to Genitivi. "Welcome back!" he cried. "You were gone a long time today. Were you successful?"

"See for yourself," Elizabeth said, and Leliana produced the white bag and held it open just enough that he could see, and not enough that the Ashes would blow away.

"There's some du- …That's not dust, is it." He closed his eyes and made a holy symbol in the air. "Oh Maker, I am not worthy to look upon…" He turned to Elizabeth in a frenzy of excitement. "You must tell me all about it! How was it situated? Was there anyone there?"

They told him all about the temple, its guardian and the trials they endured. Genitivi listened with a look of rapture on his face, scribbling frantically in a battered notebook with a well-chewed pen.

"This is marvellous," he said, when they finally ran out of answers for his questions. "This is the greatest thing to have happened for many ages. I must hurry back to Denerim and begin building up plans for a larger expedition. There is so much history here, all untouched! We'll study all these temples, the books in the library here, and make the place safe for pilgrims! Yes, all the pilgrims of the world must be allowed to come here and venerate Our Lady."

"And eventually it will be exploited by the rich and powerful, as such things usually are," Morrigan said.

Elizabeth paused. Morrigan was right. "She's right," she said. "I understand your enthusiasm, but… be careful of who learns about it, at least for now? There is still a High dragon in these parts. Besides the dangers it poses for those who cannot fight, those cultists believed it to be their Andraste and wanted to poison the Ashes with its blood. I know I am only a foolish swordfighter and can say nothing about Chantry business, but please don't let anyone destroy what was hidden here for so long."

"I'm sure that one would be much more devestated than it – you," Shale said drily. "This is its life's work, after all, is it not?"

Genitivi frowned. "Of course it must be made known to all. We cannot hide this to ourselves, then we would be as bad as the powerful who would exploit it. But I appreciate your concern. In my excitement, I forgot to consider such a thing. I will think on it, I assure you. Now come, let us return to Denerim. Will you escort me? I know I am old and injured and slow, but I beg your forbearance."

"Certainly we will," Elizabeth said. "But we must stop at Redcliffe."

"Very well, then I will come with you there and then on to Denerim by myself. I will be on the main roads then and hopefully stronger than I am now."

.

Elizabeth stared at the mirrored side of the amulet cupped in her palm. It was midnight, about three days later, but she had wandered away from camp through the thick forest to a rocky ridge where the moonlight streamed down upon her.

She had thought she had seen something in the silver the day before, a movement that was not a reflection of the things around her, a face, in fact, much like her father – or sometimes her mother. It was blurry, vague, small, and it could have just been a trick of the light, yet she stared at it, unblinking, waiting for that encouraging smile to happen again. It was hard when her eyes kept welling up.

She must have been there for an hour when she heard approaching footsteps – Zevran's footsteps.

"No sleep for you tonight?" he called softly. She grunted a reply, and he hummed in response, coming to sit beside her and draping the blanket from her tent over her shoulders. "What is that you have there?"

"An amulet," she said, stupidly. "It's… The part in the trials with the narrow room, I… I saw… my father." She hunched her shoulders, trying to hide her tears from him – saying it out loud hurt far more than she thought it would have. "He gave me…"

Zevran reached over and tugged her into his arms, almost into his lap. "You don't have to hide your tears from me. I may not know what your life with your family was like, but I understand grief well enough. You are a strong woman, but even you must need to weep sometimes."

She still struggled against letting it out, but he was so gentle, holding her against his warm shoulder and stroking her hair, letting it down from its buns and untangling the long braids until it streamed down her back in tight waves. Her tears flowed down her face and stained his winter tunic. "He said I should… let go of them. Of the pain, at least. I know I should, but I don't… I don't know if I can."

He was quiet. "Did you see someone?" she asked in a whisper, and the hand that stroked her hair faltered for a moment.

"I don't want to talk about that," he said, and she nodded understandingly. She hung the amulet from her neck again and wrapped her arms around him, pressing closer to him. He had his blanket around his shoulders as well, and for a few minutes all they did was hold each other.

"I wish I could do more for you," he muttered after a moment. "I only have one skill – killing people. Well – killing and lovemaking… killing, lovemaking, and witty retorts, those I am good enough at. But I cannot kill anyone for you here, you aren't interested in making love, and… this isn't the time for witty retorts."

"I do appreciate them," she said candidly. "I just wish that Wynne wasn't driven to distraction by them… but you do make me smile with your sarcasm a lot."

"Do I? It's hard to tell."

"You do," she said. "But I agree – this isn't the time for them."

"Then what can I do for you?"

"What can I do for you?" she countered, and tensed. Surely he would pounce on that and say something ridiculously inappropriate.

But the hand stroking her hair didn't waver. "Just keep being your wonderful sweet self, dear Liz. Make our enemies flee in terror from your wrath, and let me stay in the group."

She was silent a long time, thinking about that.

"You could… we could…"

"Hmm?"

"I-if you wanted, we could…" Her voice dropped to a near-inaudible whisper. "…make love."

Now the hand on her head stilled. "Liz, sweetheart, do you know what you are saying?"

She was tense, her arms and legs growing more frozen in place by the moment. His hand dropped to her arm, reminding her to relax – and breathe. But she forced herself to sit up a little, and her gaze wandered a little from nerves, but she did manage to look him in the eye for most of it. "I… I do know. Listen, Zevran. I am not a Cousland anymore, so that doesn't matter. As a Grey Warden, I am infertile, so that doesn't matter. And I-I… I trust you, with this, with me."

"Liz, you know what I am. I'm not a knight to swear faithfulness forever, nor a prince to sweep you off your feet. I think you'd be doing most of the sweeping, anyway."

"I know you are not one to be tied down. You're not free, never been free, for so much of your life, but you try to be free where you can. I don't necessarily understand, but I don't want to tie you down, not against your will. But… I don't even care about that, Zevran. I want… I want this, anyway."

"If you are sure."

She took a deep, shuddering breath. "Yes."

"The first step," Zevran said, his breath ghosting over her cheek to her ear, "is not to be afraid." He took the blanket from her shoulders and laid it on the rocky ground with a sweep of his arm, and then laid her down upon it. Her hair fanned out around her. "I know this is your first time, and I promise I will be gentle, but you must relax. You trust me with your words and actions, now trust me with your body."

For a moment, there flashed into her mind – what if he was still working for the Crows, and just wanted to sleep with her before he killed her? Ruthlessly, she quashed that thought. She did trust him. She was just… nervous. "What if… what if one of our companions comes looking for us? Is this place all right?"

"It will be fine. They won't come. Besides," he added with a cheeky smile, "they think we've been doing this for ages anyway." She blushed bright red.

Clothes came off slowly, sensuously, with many kisses, and the cold of the night prickled her skin and gave her goosebumps. She shyly explored his torso and arms as he leaned over her, running her hands along the lines of his back and his abdominal muscles, tracing his tattoos, on his front, his arms, his face. His hands were gentle but confident, feeling the curve of her waist and the rather small swell of her breasts, and she gasped at the tingling sensations he gave her, her eyes closing inadvertently.

When he went to remove her pants, she sat up and helped him – she wanted some kind of control over that part. She was breathing fast and shallow when she lay down again, and her knees were pinned together apprehensively, hiding what lay between her legs under dark hair. "Don't be afraid," he said again. "Come. Let me give you this pleasure, my darling Liz." She hid her face from the smouldering intensity of his gaze and widened her knees a little. He reached up to move her hands away from her face, and she turned away, still not quite able to master her nerves. He sank back down her body, moving her knees a little farther apart.

It was like a jolt of lightning, stunning and blinding, as he drew his tongue across the most sensitive place on her body. The cold left her, the hardness of the stones under the blanket were forgotten; all she could sense was Zevran's tongue. And then he began to probe her with his fingers – oh Maker, that wasn't fair. She moaned, almost trying to squirm away under this sensual assault, her eyes squeezed shut. He held her down as she writhed uncontrollably, and kept going until something broke inside her and she cried out, shuddering with her entire body.

Her mouth was dry and she panted for air as she came down from the high. She lay limp on the blankets as he wormed his way up to lie beside her, gathering her against his warm body – almost too warm now – and kissed her. He tasted different, his mouth wet with her, but she didn't care; she kissed him back desperately, clinging to him, pressing against him, anything to show him what an incredible thing he had done to her.

He was laughing as they broke apart. "So you liked that, eh?" She didn't trust herself to speak but nodded shakily and enthusiastically, and he laughed heartily. She couldn't help it and giggled along with him.

"Would you like some more?" he asked, and she belatedly realized that they still hadn't actually had sex yet. She blushed again and nodded, and he kissed her, long and slow, as he rolled over her.

.

Author's note: soundtracks for this chapter include Ver$ from Aldnoah (for the market scene), Levi vs. Female Titan from SnK, Cyberbird from GitS, and finally the hurt/comfort/smexy tiemuz was Omake Pfadlib from SnK.

The part where Elizabeth breaks Sten's maul was researched a bit, and it's difficult for a sword to break a weapon (they were designed to take a lot of stress, medieval weapons), but not impossible. Skallagrim did at least one video on how a sword can't easily cut through a spear haft, which is applicable here as well. My friend Thari suggested that the maul could break at the last rivet between the head and the handle, as that is probably where all the stress goes, especially if the maul's been heavily used (as Sten's has) even if not overly damaged in combat. Also, this is a fight between a human with an enchanted sword and a Qunari, soooo… that could shake things up too.

Or maybe it was ~*fate*~.


	11. Denerim

Denerim

.

It was five days to Redcliffe – they were closer to the edge of the mountains than Elizabeth had thought – and immediately they went to Arlessa Isolde with the Ashes in their little white silk bag. A doctor and a mage from the Circle Tower took them and argued with Brother Genitivi over what should be done with them; the doctor suggested that Arl Eamon ingest the ashes, while the mage wanted to see if simply applying them to Eamon's skin would help.

Whatever they tried, in front of all of them, the Arl frowned, his hands flexed slightly, and his eyes slowly opened. "Where am I?" he whispered, very weakly.

"Be calm, dear husband," Isolde said, although she was on the verge of happy tears. "You have been deathly ill for a very long time. Do you remember anything?"

"I dreamed… terrible things, yet I have the feeling that at least some of it was no dream. Where is Connor? Where is our boy?" Eamon asked anxiously, his voice cracking with disuse. The doctor hastened to sit him up and offered him a glass of water.

"He lives, thank the Maker," Isolde said. "Many awful things have happened, Eamon. I will tell you later. For now, rest, and regain your strength."

"I would hear it now," Eamon said. "But you may begin by telling me why the younger Cousland is here, and who all these other people are."

Elizabeth took a step forward as Isolde turned to her, and bowed. "I am afraid that I am currently the only remaining Cousland, Arl Eamon. Arlessa Isolde requested my help in finding your cure, and I have done what I could. These are my friends and companions, who journeyed with me."

"I see," Eamon said, and already his voice was stronger. "And is that… Alistair, with you? You've grown, lad."

Alistair grinned sheepishly. "I would hope so, my lord. I'm a Grey Warden now. Being a Templar didn't work out for me so well."

"I see…" Eamon turned to Isolde. "How long have I been asleep?"

"Many months," Isolde said. "But rest, if you can. I will bring you food and drink. We will speak of more serious things this evening."

"Very well," Eamon said with a sigh. "I will not overstress myself for today. May I see Connor?"

Isolde smiled. "Yes. I will fetch him."

That afternoon, Elizabeth went with Sten down to the village. Dwyn was home this time, and with a little intimidation and a little bribery, he handed over Sten's sword – a beautiful two-handed weapon almost as tall as she was.

Sten smiled in his subtle way as they left the village and hiked up the hill to return to the castle. "Thank you, kadan."

"I don't understand," Elizabeth said. "I did nothing."

"You never gave up hope that this could be done, even when I did. That this one weapon could be found. That my honour could be restored. You do not understand the Qun in the least, but… you would do well under it."

"Thank you," she said, feeling oddly flattered, even though she saw the Qun as horribly restrictive and she would never want to live by it.

"You are stubborn… and honourable, and you are a woman who fights." She smiled a little at the reference, and he nodded. "You are direct and honest, despite your naivety. When the Qunari return to these shores, I will not look for you in battle."

They'd had debates on the differences between Qunari and Fereldens before, and she was resigned to his insistence that the Qunari would someday return to invade the rest of the continent. "I will not look for you either, Sten. But I am glad you are with us now." She remembered something. "Will you be returning to your people, now that you have regained your sword and your honour?"

"No. Fighting the Blight is important. I have come to realize that, and that you are better off with my strength. I will remain with you until it is done."

"Thank you," she said again with all her heart.

.

They rested there for the night, rejoicing in Arl Eamon's miraculous recovery, and after they had eaten, Eamon asked them to remain for a while. He had apparently gotten the full story out of Isolde. "I am troubled by what I have learned, and there is much to be done. I would be remiss, however, if I did not begin by thanking those who have done so much already." He bowed to Elizabeth. "You and your companions have saved my life not once, but twice, you have kept my family and people safe and whole, and you have done more for Ferelden than its ersatz Regent Loghain, recruiting allies for our war against the Blight."

"I thought he was organizing the defense of the Bannorn," Elizabeth said.

"Why are you defending him?" Alistair muttered.

"He has – among the Banns loyal to him. The others suspect his rise to power, and I fear we have a civil war on our hands at the very worst possible time. The darkspawn will certainly take advantage of our weakness unless we can convince him to step down and unite Ferelden under one true king."

"Here it comes," Alistair muttered again.

"But – I get ahead of myself. I would like to offer you a reward for all you have done for me personally. What can I offer you?"

Elizabeth blinked. "I… I hadn't thought of that, my lord. Your aid against the Blight was all I hoped for."

"I understand, but regardless of your motivations I feel you are worthy of a reward. You and your companions shall be known as champions of Redcliffe, and any of you will be welcome guests here at any time."

Zevran put up a hand like a schoolboy. "Were you told of her quest for revenge on a certain Arl Howe?"

"I was, and I offer whatever efforts I can make towards casting him down and exposing his treachery to the Landsmeet."

"Thank you, ser," Elizabeth said.

"Now, to speak of Loghain. Long have I known him; he is a sensible man who has never desired power for its own sake. But… if he has let Cailan die, orchestrated my assassination, and forced his daughter the Queen to play second fiddle, he has gone mad with ambition." Eamon sighed. "Well, many a man will go a little mad in the face of great danger, and between the darkspawn, the prospect of control, and his no-doubt unabated phobia of the Orlesians, his madness can perhaps be accounted for." Elizabeth and Alistair looked at each other; she remembered the letters found in Cailan's chest at Ostagar. "But we will not let madness slide; we must stop him. And we cannot stop him with civil war, or else the darkspawn will overrun all of Ferelden and we will be slaughtered even as we try to kill each other."

"What do you propose we do?" Elizabeth asked.

"I will spread word of what Loghain has done. But without proof, my word will not sway the ones loyal to him, and he still has powerful allies. They will give pause, but we must combine it with a challenge that Loghain himself cannot ignore. We need someone with a stronger claim to the throne than his daughter the Queen."

Alistair groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Nooo, do I have to?"

"I would not propose such a thing if there was an alternative," Eamon said kindly. "But the unthinkable has happened. Without you, Loghain wins, and I would have to support him for the sake of Ferelden, to end the Blight. Is that what you want?"

Alistair's face fell into dejected lines. "I… but I… no, my lord."

"We shall go to Denerim tomorrow," Eamon said. "I shall call the Landsmeet, and the Ferelden nobles will decide who will rule, one way or another. In the meantime, Ser Perth will organize my army to prepare for battle against the darkspawn."

Before Elizabeth went to bed, Morrigan pulled her aside, taking her into her room and producing the black book Elizabeth had found in the Circle Tower. "I have… made a disturbing discovery."

"About the book?" Elizabeth asked.

"Partially. It is, as you may have expected, written by my mother. I had expected to find spells she used, a sketch of the power she commanded. But this is not it."

"What is it that could disturb even you?" Elizabeth asked.

"One thing in particular." Morrigan flipped through the book until she came to a page which she had folded down at the corner. Elizabeth did not approve of the folding of page corners, especially in a book that looked as if it was going to fall about anyway, but there were more important concerns at hand. "Here, in great detail, Flemeth describes the means by which she has survived for centuries."

"Is it blood magic? A spell of immortality?" Even blood magic did not bother Morrigan overly much, although Elizabeth believed that she used it infrequently if at all.

"If only it were so," Morrigan said, shaking her head. "Flemeth has raised many daughters over her lifetime. There are tales of these other Witches of the Wild in Chasind legend, yet I have never seen a one. I had always wondered why not. And now… I know. They are all Flemeth! When her body grows old and wizened, she raises a daughter, and when the time is right, takes her daughter's body for her own!"

"How horrible!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Are you certain this book is true?"

"I recognize all of it," Morrigan said, flipping through the book and pointing to things; pictures of plants, of animals, large paragraphs written in faded brown ink that Elizabeth hoped was not blood. "It details the training and preparation of each daughter, and I… I am to be her next host."

"I don't know what to say," Elizabeth said. "But… why would she send you with us, on this dangerous journey, if she needs you so badly? She looks far beyond child-bearing years."

"Flemeth does not explain her motives," Morrigan said, although somehow she looked uncomfortable. Elizabeth tilted her head curiously, but Morrigan looked her defiantly in the eyes. "She must have some purpose for it. Perhaps she thinks that living forever is useless if the Blight runs rampant over her home. Although… she could fight it herself if… if she had… me. You would probably not know the difference if such a thing were to happen. More cackling, probably."

"I will not insult you by doubting you further," Elizabeth said. "What are you going to do about it?"

"There really is only one response to such a thing, isn't there?" Morrigan said. "I will not sit about like an empty sack waiting to be filled! Flemeth must be slain, and I need your help to do it."

"I understand," Elizabeth said.

Morrigan shook her head. "No, you don't. If she is slain while I am there, I do not know if she will not just try to possess me right then and there. Therefore, you will have to do this alone, or at least without me. And I do not know if she will be truly dead, even then, but at least it will take her years to find a new host and recover her power. The important thing, however, is not just that she is slain but that you find her true grimoire. With it, I will be able to defend against her in the future."

"All right," Elizabeth said. "I will go to fight Flemeth. Will she still be in the Korcari Wilds?"

"I believe so," Morrigan said, tension leaving her body. "Thank you. You have taken some of the weight from my mind. I… I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, but… you are a good person. A loyal person, anyway."

"It's a Ferelden trait," Elizabeth said, trying to joke. "It's why we consider dogs our best friends."

Huan whimpered sleepily from somewhere around her feet.

"Right," Morrigan said, trying to smile. "Well… Arl Eamon will probably go along the northern highway to Denerim. I will go with him. That will keep me far and away out of danger while you do this for me. …Thank you."

.

So they set out on the southern highway, while Morrigan joined Arl Eamon's company with a half-hearted promise not to cause too much trouble. Alistair dithered for a while, not wanting to let Morrigan run off with no supervision, but also wanting to stay with Elizabeth and away from Arl Eamon just a little longer. In the end, he went with Elizabeth. "Even if that witch is tricking you, I don't suppose it would be particularly a bad thing if someone stopped her."

"Didn't she save your life at one point?" Zevran asked, and Alistair shut up with a grimace.

At camp that evening, she sat with Oghren, who seemed down, drinking more and speaking less than usual. "Are you all right?"

"Ah, just… I've been missing Orzammar a little, y'know? Didn't think I would. But I guess… flies live in dung, but they'd miss it if it was gone."

"Charming analogy," Leliana said.

"Would you ever go back?" Elizabeth asked.

"Nah, I can't. I'd rather be dead than be casteless in Orzammar, fulla tin-plated back-stabbing wannabe tyrants. I'd rather be a useless lump of a dwarf out here than a useless lump of a dwarf in there."

"You're not useless," Elizabeth said. "You've been very helpful. The way you fight is… you just rip through our enemies like a harvester cutting grain."

"Grain? Oh, right, that yellow stuff that you make surfacer beer and bread out of. Ah, that's because I'm a berserker. You know what a berserker is?"

"A… wild fighter?" She might have said undisciplined, but she still didn't know Oghren that well and didn't want to offend him – although he seemed difficult to offend.

"Close. What ye have to do is get yourself good and angry, point yourself at the enemy, and let 'er rip." Oghren surveyed her from head to toe. "Not unlike the way you fight sometimes. You'd make a good berserker."

"I… do find myself angry when I'm fighting, a lot," Elizabeth said. "Is that what you mean? But it's difficult to sustain, even if I wanted to."

"I'll show you what I mean next time we run into some darkspawn. You gotta keep thinking angry thoughts."

"Really? That's all you do?"

Oghren spat into the fire. "Mostly. The hard part for a lot of kids is keeping a good big reserve of anger in the pit of their stomach ready for when they have to fight, but then getting back to normal afterwards. You don't want to be taking off your friend's heads too."

"I see," Elizabeth said. "I suppose I have a few things to be angry about. And you do too."

"Aye. Branka alone's given me enough fodder for one lifetime, Stone preserve the poor gal, let alone everything else that's happened… But enough moping, I'll lose my reputation. You've been a good pal, Eliza."

"Please don't call me that," Elizabeth said. What was it with people and wanting to shorten her name?

"Sod it, but the only other thing I feel right calling you is Warden, and that's stuffy. Anyway, I was going to say… you've never tried my special brew, have you?"

"No, I don't drink a lot."

Oghren giggled in his gravelly voice. "Well, as a treat for bein' such a good friend, I figured I'd let you have a taste. My own family's recipe. After all we've been through, you're kind of like family to me, or at least the closest thing I've had in years. Like a baby sister or something. But just one taste, mind you. It takes a while to brew this stuff."

"I… I'm not sure I want to. You've brewed it yourself, haven't you?"

"Oh, no need to be scared, Warden, it's just booze. C'mon, I'm proud of this one."

"All right," she said. "Just a sip."

Oghren uncorked his flask. Or was it his other flask? He had too many of them. "Just a sip," he assured her. She raised it to her lips.

She had the vague idea that Wynne was rushing towards them, crying out in warning, but she was already falling… She passed out before she hit the ground.

.

She woke up in her tent… which showed signs of great activity… next to Zevran… naked. She was too hungover to scream in alarm; her head pounded like a wardrum and she shut her eyes and burrowed farther into his warmth.

He stirred. "Mm… Ah, my darling Liz… Be careful what you accept from Oghren from now on, hmm?"

"Too loud," she moaned, and he stifled a chuckle.

"I'm not complaining on my behalf. And you certainly seemed to enjoy yourself… But I think you like being in control of your own actions, don't you? Not to mention remembering them."

"Oh Maker…" she groaned. Her blush was not helping her headache. "No, I remember nothing."

"A pity, it was quite exciting. A little in need of practice, but I didn't know you had such debauchery in you."

She whined into his shoulder and he stopped talking mercifully for a moment, sparing both her head and her blushing cheeks.

She only had a few minutes before he was nudging her. "We should start getting ready to get up and eat and move on." She whined again but untangled herself from him and set about dressing herself. Half her armour was missing, but when she looked outside, someone had neatly stacked it by the door of her tent. Everyone knew, didn't they? Everyone knew about… whatever she had done last night, and she didn't. They must have no respect left for her, especially Sten and Shale. She was a little glad Morrigan wasn't with them. She wasn't sure what Morrigan would do, but if she chose to mock her, Elizabeth would probably have spontaneously combusted.

She ate breakfast avoiding the eyes of the others, and helped pack up and began the march without speaking, resigning herself to having a permanently red face from now on. But Alistair came up to her, looking secretive. "If you're worried about last night, well, ummm… don't. We all know to blame it on Oghren. Even Sten. Honest."

"I didn't know it would be that strong," she moaned. "I had less than a drop. I know Wynne's had some. How can she stand it?"

"A practiced palate, my dear," Wynne said, coming up behind her and giving her a hug. "I would have warned you if I knew what that curmudgeon was up to. He's not the least bit remorseful, either."

"That's not true," Oghren said. "But now I know not to offer my special brew to lightweights. Won't have to panic about spills."

"Not that kind of remorse," Wynne sighed in exasperation.

"Fine," Oghren said. "Look, I'm sorry I got you so drunk you passed out instantaneously. I didn't mean for that to happen, and after you listened to me whinge and all."

"Very good," Wynne said.

"And then you tried to hump the elf in front of all of us and almost fell in the fire when you woke up again," Oghren said, slowly breaking into a lecherous grin. Elizabeth clapped her hands to her face and marched onwards at an uncomfortably fast pace. Wynne scolded Oghren behind her.

.

When they had reached the Korcari Wilds, the social agony of that lost night had begun to fade, and she was beginning to become refocused on her real goal. The closer she came, the more apprehensive she was. She knew Alistair and Leliana felt it too. Whatever Sten and Shale felt, they showed no sign. Oghren and Zevran did not seem particularly bothered by the idea of going to kill _the_ Witch of the Wilds, and Wynne practically felt it was a righteous duty. And Huan didn't care at all as long as she was with him.

Flemeth was waiting for them when they finally found the little hut past the ruins. "And so you return. Lovely Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn't you say?"

"Should I dance to your tune instead?" Elizabeth asked without humour.

"Why dance at all?" Flemeth inquired pertly. "Why not sing?" She cackled at her little joke. "What has Morrigan told you, hmm? What little plan has she hatched this time?"

"She knows how you extend your unnatural lifespan, Flemeth of legends," Elizabeth said.

Flemeth chuckled. "That she does. The question is… do you?"

"What do you mean?" Elizabeth asked.

"Don't let her twist your resolution," Alistair said. "Morrigan's bad… but she's worse."

"Ah, but it is an old, old story. One that Flemeth has heard before… and even told."

"What is the truth, then?" Elizabeth asked.

"The truth, she says! As if it were nothing! No, no, far better the lie." Flemeth's voice sank into a soothing purr. "Far better the comfort of blankets and shadows and a mother's love. I am sure she wishes for my real grimoire. Why not take it, and only tell her I am slain? It would be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening, even. Would you grant an old woman that?"

"She would know," Elizabeth said. "Even if I wished to lie to her – and I do not – she would see through it easily."

"Such loyalty to one you hardly know! We all believe what we want to believe. She will believe you if you have resolution."

"I know I owe you my life," Elizabeth said. "But Morrigan has helped me many times over the last months – at your behest, I know. But I owe her my life many times over."

"So whoever saves your life most has the most claim on it? An odd philosophy and one that will be painful to live by. And of course, you have fewer qualms about killing a strange old woman in a swamp, than you would a beautiful young woman who travels with you. But whatever you need to justify it to yourself."

"I must live with my own decisions, but so must those around me," Elizabeth said. "I travel with Morrigan, eat with her, talk with her. I know that I still do not know her well, but how can I face her with failure once I gave her my word? So I apologize, but I must fulfill what I have promised."

"It is a dance poor Flemeth knows well," Flemeth sighed. "Let us hope she remembers the steps. Come! She will earn what she takes." Flemeth began to glow, and before they could make any sort of move, she vanished and a High dragon appeared in her place.

"All right then," Alistair said, "I think I know how she rescued us from that tower. Duck!"

Flemeth was terrifying to fight. Elizabeth had been expecting spells, curses, the manipulation of the forest itself, even shapeshifting, but not shapeshifting into a dragon. They had to scatter into the trees, although they could not go far before they were stopped by the swamp. Flemeth spat fire at them, setting many of the trees on fire. Amid the flames and the still-freezing water, they fought and fought for over an hour. By the time Oghren split the dragon's skull with his axe, Elizabeth's entire body hurt and her sword felt like it was made of stone. Alistair and Leliana let out a ragged cheer, and she felt a brief rush of relief and pride that they had won. She still had to find the grimoire and then leave that place as quickly as possible.

Lingering in her mind was the question: had Flemeth chosen to be defeated?

.

It took them another week to return to Denerim from the Korcari Wilds, and Elizabeth led them directly to Arl Eamon's estate. Eamon was still discussing things with the nobles, so he told the companions to relax and do as they pleased. Genitivi had gone back to his home, and Morrigan rejoined their group – briefly, for when Elizabeth handed her the other black book, her face lit up brightly and she disappeared into the depths of Eamon's mansion to read it somewhere.

The others amused themselves by picking up other odd jobs; Leliana went shopping with Wynne, and Sten joined a militia group as a trainer. The air through the city was more tense than before. The alienage had been barricaded, because of a plague, Elizabeth heard, and many people were leaving to flee to Kirkwall or the Free Marches. Elizabeth herself decided it was time for a break without being in charge of anything for once. Teagan was there, and he happily welcomed her to Denerim; she spent a pleasant hour talking with him. Teagan assured her he had been working on her behalf among the other Banns, and that he was making progress in eroding Loghain's support.

Later, Zevran and Elizabeth were walking through the district south of the river. Elizabeth had just been to the market to collect a set of gloves and boots she had commissioned from an eccentric artisanal blacksmith, and then they had set out to explore more of the city. Zevran had turned to take a shortcut through an alley, when he stopped short suddenly. Elizabeth looked up and saw that the exit of the alley had been blocked by men in leather armour. She turned and saw that the other end behind them had been blocked similarly. There were maybe eight men in total, and some of them had crossbows. She heard the cawing of crows, and Zevran had a tense, angry look on his face. Huan's hackles rose and he growled, ready to spring.

One man, young, dark-haired, and bearded, approached them from the group behind them. "Here is the mighty Grey Warden Elizabeth Cousland at long last. The Crows send their greetings yet again. And Zevran, how nice to see you again." He had a slight Antivan accent, but he sounded a lot more Fereldan than Zevran did.

"Hello, Taliesin," Zevran said sharply, not responding to the other's sarcasm. "Tell me, were you sent? Or did you volunteer for this job?"

"Oh, I volunteered, of course," the young assassin said cheerfully. "When I heard that my dear friend Zevran had gone rogue, I simply had to see for myself."

"Is that so? Well here I am, in the flesh."

"You can return with me, Zevran," Taliesin said earnestly, dropping the sarcasm. "I know why you did it, and I don't blame you. It's not too late, though. Come back and we'll make up a story. Anyone can make a mistake."

"Of course, for that to work, I'd have to be dead," Elizabeth said in a low voice.

"And I am not about to let that happen," Zevran said strongly. "I'm sorry, my old friend, but the answer is no. I'm not coming back… and you should have stayed in Antiva. I'll kill any Crow who comes after her. Tell them that."

"You've gone soft!" Taliesin's face twisted in anger. "If that's the way you want to play it, you'll die here with your Fereldan whore, just like-!"

Elizabeth didn't even see Zevran move. One moment he was beside her, and the next, he had crossed the distance to Taliesin, who somehow managed to parry Zevran's vicious dagger strike. Taliesin's words had inflamed her heart as well, and she and Huan charged at the men at the other end of the alley, since there was no way she was getting past the master assassin duel.

Crossbows twanged, and while she managed to deflect two of them with her shield, she stumbled as one grazed her leg, carving a line of fire across her flesh. But then she was upon them, and Huan was already bearing one crossbowman to the ground as she attacked the one man with a sword. The other crossbowmen were backing away, trying to reload their bows, but even as they re-aimed their weapons, Huan finished with his first target and lunged at a second, dragging him down by the leg.

Elizabeth thought that the man she was fighting was not very used to dealing with Fereldan styles of fighting; he didn't seem to know what to do with her shield. The bolt from the second archer struck the corner of the shield, punching a small hole in the steel and becoming stuck there inches from her face. She ignored it in favour of stabbing her opponent in the shoulder and, as he reeled, stabbing him again in the throat. Then she turned to rush the crossbowman, smashing his weapon aside and stabbing him through his leather armour in the gut. He gave a horrible squeal as she pulled her bloody sword free, and died as he hit the ground.

Zevran had somehow managed to deal with Taliesin and the three men behind him by himself, and he turned to give her a look of mixed emotions. "I wish… it had not been Taliesin. But if we hide the bodies, the Crows will think that I died with them, at least for a little while."

"I'm sorry," Elizabeth said. "He was a friend of yours?"

Zevran nodded grimly. "He and another… we worked as a unit for many years, until…"

Elizabeth swayed and cried out, sick pain radiating through her leg. Zevran ran to her and caught her.

"What happened? Were you injured?"

"Crossbow bolt…" Elizabeth tapped the area and winced. The world was growing fuzzy. "Poisoned?"

"Hang on, Liz. …Hang on!" She felt him grab her and hoist her over his shoulder, and then she passed out.

.

She woke up in her bed at Arl Eamon's estate, Zevran and Wynne hovering over her. She coughed – her mouth felt like she had eaten shoe leather – and tried to sit up. "What happened?"

"You took a dose of Crow poison on that bolt, _mi amor_ ," Zevran said, helping her up. "Deadly stuff. It is lucky we were not too far from the mansion."

"Zevran knew the antidote, of course," Wynne said. "He saved you." She gave Elizabeth an odd look, that Elizabeth was too tired to interpret.

"What's in it?" Elizabeth asked.

Wynne showed her a sheaf of paper on which she had written it for future reference, and Elizabeth read it several times and nodded. It might be useful to know, if the Crows were stubborn in their pursuit of her. She turned to Zevran. "Thank you. It must feel good – to be free, and to have saved my life yet again."

"You gave me something to live for in the first place, which feels best of all," Zevran said, before his affectionate smile turned into his usual smirk. "Things I'm sure you'd rather discuss without Madam Wynne here."

"Elizabeth just survived a poisoning attempt," Wynne said sternly. "I would recommend against… coitus for at least one day. It might strain her heart."

Zevran rolled his eyes and sighed. "Fine, fine. I shouldn't want to kill you just after I killed someone for trying to kill you. We all do our share of murdering around here, don't we?"

"I'd like to talk to Elizabeth for a moment, in fact, if you don't mind," Wynne said.

Zevran bowed. "By all means. I'll be downstairs. If you don't let me know when you're done, I'll give the dwarf ten new pick-up lines and tell him you found him attractive."

"Good heavens," Wynne said. "Off with you!"

When Zevran had gone, closing the door behind him, Wynne turned to Elizabeth with an awkward look. "Elizabeth, about Zevran…"

"I won't-"

Wynne held up a hand, forestalling Elizabeth's interruption. "I have watched you for a time, and perhaps I was wrong. There seems to be something special between the two of you. His demeanour changes when he is with you. There is a tenderness to his gaze I'd never seen until now."

"Do you really think so?" Elizabeth asked. "I sometimes thought so, but I wasn't really sure."

"Do not think of yourself so poorly. Trust your feelings. I know you love him back."

Elizabeth blushed. Wynne was right. She did love Zevran. She was afraid to say it; she had been protecting herself so hard, even if ineffectually, but she didn't want to say that she loved him and hear him have to deny her. Unless she had said it in her drunken stupor a couple weeks ago. More than once she had almost said it in climax even when sober. But… "Yes… I do."

"I think I was too harsh in my judgement before, and I am sorry."

"I accept your apology," Elizabeth said. "But you were just trying to look out for me. And I know he has driven you to distraction on occasion."

Wynne smiled ruefully. "More than on occasion. But it seems that at heart he is a good man. Let me warn you, as your would-be mentor, that what you have may not last forever. Duty or death may part you, but love's worthiness is not diminished because of that. Instead, learn to cherish every precious moment that you spend together. And for those of us watching, well… it brings warmth to these old bones to know that something so beautiful can be found in the midst of chaos and strife."

Elizabeth had been blushing harder and harder. "And yet there was that one night that was not so beautiful…"

Wynne snorted. "That was entirely Oghren's fault, and as far as I can tell has not made a negative impact in his feelings for you. And we know it wasn't truly you, Elizabeth. Besides, if there had been no one else around, is it not enjoyable to get drunk with the one you care for?"

"If you put it that way," Elizabeth surrendered. "Am I allowed to get up today?"

"As long as you don't leave the hall or get in a fight, dear. Try not to get angry, even." Wynne got up. "I will go tell that rascal that he can pester you again."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, smiling.

.

Arl Eamon sent for her the next day, urgently and without warning.

"Lady Elizabeth, this is Erlina."

A dark-haired elf woman dressed as a high-class servant bowed to her, taking over immediately from the Arl. "I am Queen Anora's handmaiden, and she sent me here to ask for your help."

"My help?" Elizabeth asked, confused. If Loghain knew who she was, the Queen surely knew, but… to ask for her help?

"The Queen, she is in a difficult position," Erlina said with a light Orlesian accent. "She loved her husband, no? And trusted her father to protect him. When he returns with no king and only dark rumours, what is she to think? She worries, no? But when she tries to speak with him, he does not answer. He tells her not to trouble herself. So my queen suspects she cannot trust her father anymore. And Lord Loghain, he is very subtle, no? But Rendon Howe, he is privy to all the secrets, and… not so subtle."

"Howe is involved?" Elizabeth demanded.

Erlina nodded. "So she goes to Howe. A visit from the queen to the new Arl of Denerim is only a matter of courtesy. And she demands answers. And he calls her every sort of name, 'traitor' being the kindest, and locks her in a guest room."

"Howe does like to fling about the word 'traitor'," Elizabeth said grimly. "She is still alive, right?"

"Yes, but if I go to her father for help, if the palace guard besiege the Denerim estate, she will certainly be killed before they can reach her. I think… I think her life is in danger. I heard Howe say she would be a greater ally dead than alive, especially if her death could be blamed in some way on Arl Eamon."

"Loghain would not accept that, would he?" Elizabeth said, shocked. "She is still his daughter. Would he really sacrifice her just to bring down Arl Eamon?"

"We seem to have no choice but to trust Queen Anora," Eamon said. "She is well loved. If she dies and the blame is placed on me, we will have no more political strength than a fly."

"Very well," Elizabeth said. "Did you have a plan?"

"I acquired some guard uniforms while I was sneaking out of the Denerim estate," Erlina said, gesturing to a large basket behind her. "Arl Howe hires so many new guards every day, a few more would not cause any stir."

"How many do you have?" Elizabeth asked.

"Four."

"And we should stick to the most unmemorable faces among us… which could be difficult." Elizabeth put her hand to her mouth, thinking. "Alistair, certainly, and me… perhaps Zevran as well, and… hmm. Leliana or Morrigan, I think."

"Best to take Morrigan," Alistair said from the corner of the room, and she jumped – she hadn't seen him at all, he had been sitting so quietly on a stool. "I know I don't like her, but her magic could be very useful – even more useful than Leliana's subterfuge. Besides, if we need to lie our way into or out of anything, I'm sure your boyfriend could handle it."

"Your… boyfri-" Eamon looked confused, and vaguely offended at the thought of the noble daughter of the Couslands consorting with an elf assassin, and Elizabeth shook her head at Alistair.

"It's not important. But you make a good point, Alistair."

"I'm just happy to be included. Hooray."

"I will escort you to the servant's entrance," Erlina said. "We must be in and out with my queen before anyone is the wiser. We shall disguise her in another uniform; she knows how to fight, just like you, Lady Elizabeth."

"This plan sounds as good as any," Elizabeth said. "Although I will warn you now – if we run into Howe alone, I will kill him."

"He is a dangerous man," Erlina said. "I will not blame you… unless it gets my lady caught."

Elizabeth bowed her head. "I understand. I will try not to let my feelings interfere with Ferelden's fate."

Zevran and Morrigan were sent for, with Morrigan angrily brushing off servants concerned about her usual state of undress right up to Eamon's chamber. Both of them were eager to be involved, and dressed in the uniforms; Leliana also got wind of it and came in to put make-up on them, something Elizabeth had not even thought of, hiding Zevran's face tattoo, making Elizabeth and Morrigan a little less striking in their features and Alistair a little more grizzled. She also gave Morrigan a dramatic false scar across her eye, reasoning aloud that observers would remember the scar and not the woman.

Morrigan had some objections, even while she was being made ready. "And you're just going to believe this story without proof? This woman could just be making it all up to lead you into a trap. 'Tis a tale almost worthy of my mother, and designed perfectly to ensnare gullible do-gooders like you."

"It's a risk I need to take," Elizabeth said. "And that's why you are coming along, because surely any trap Howe would devise would not plan for a mage of your skill."

"And are you intending to flatter your way out of these traps as well?" Morrigan inquired, but subsided.

Then they were off, following Erlina off to the estate. They had to sneak around the outside in order to enter without being suspected, but once inside, Erlina led them anxiously through the passages, which were rather full of other guards. "It's bad luck living in a place where the whole family's been killed," said one. "Howe should knock it down and build a new one."

"He'll have to knock down every place he owns, then," said another guard, and the first guard laughed a little hysterically. Elizabeth looked at them askance. "So when did you leave Highever?"

"Week before yesterday. Never been so glad to leave a place in my life. Bad enough cleaning up the bodies when we arrived, but the citizens! Maker's breath! If you could kill a man by hating him, we'd have been in our graves months ago."

Elizabeth ground her teeth and marched on.

"If you had not failed at being a Templar, would you have been a guard?" Morrigan asked Alistair, quietly to avoid attention.

"I didn't fail at being a Templar, though," Alistair answered, vaguely indignant, though equally quiet. "I was recruited into the Grey Wardens. There's a difference there."

"Oh please," Morrigan said. "You clearly hated being a Templar. What would have happened if you were not recruited?"

"I would have turned into a drooling lunatic, slaughtered the grand cleric and run through the streets of Denerim in my small clothes, I guess."

Morrigan snorted with some amusement. "Your self-awareness does you credit."

"I thought you'd like that," Alistair said with a grin. Elizabeth blinked. Had Alistair and Morrigan just been… friendly to each other?

They came to a surprisingly unassuming door where two guards stood at attention. Alistair stepped forward. "Hello, there. We've… been assigned to relieve you."

The two looked at each other. "Ain't never seen you around here before. Newbies assigned to guard Her Ladyship?"

"Who's your captain?" demanded the other one, drawing his sword.

"Knock them out," Elizabeth ordered.

One guard inhaled to shout for help. "Sleep," said Morrigan, and both of them dropped where they stood.

"Amazing, thank you, Morrigan," Elizabeth said sincerely. "There was a cupboard just around the corner. Alistair, Zevran, you take care of them."

Erlina stepped closer to the door, which now she saw had an odd blue tint, and knocked. "Queen Anora? Are you in there? I have brought the Grey Wardens. Are you unharmed?"

There was a rustling from inside the room. "Thank the Maker!" cried a woman, imperious and irritated – and yet not without a practical note as well. Elizabeth thought she would like her. "I am unharmed, but there's been a bit of a complication. Howe got so tired of my badgering that he got his mage to seal the door shut. I'm afraid probably the only way to unseal it is to convince the mage to release his spell – or just kill him."

"Where is he?" Elizabeth asked.

"He'll be at Howe's side, unfortunately. Where Howe is, I wouldn't know. You could try his office and bedchambers, farther down the hall."

Elizabeth swallowed hard, beginning to tremble again. Her most hated enemy… she would finally get a chance to see him. There was little chance she could maintain her guard disguise against Howe. This was it.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Zevran, his amber eyes solemn. She nodded. "Let's go get him."

"I will stay here," Erlina said. "I would only get in the way, and they won't do anything to me for being here. But… be quick, if you can."

Elizabeth nodded, and led the way at a brisk pace down the hall to Arl Howe's rooms.

There were four guards here, but Morrigan put three of them to sleep and Zevran slipped behind the fourth and choked him out until he fell unconscious; they hid all four of them in the storage closet. No one else was in the bedchamber, although Elizabeth's heart was pounding in anticipation. She could hardly think straight, and she felt like she was getting tunnel vision.

There was an inner door in the bedroom, and in fact the room appeared more to be an antechamber converted into a bedroom, which struck her as odd. She flung open the door, went down a short flight of steps, and stepped into the next room.

A guard jumped. "Who're you?" he demanded, and then an arm snaked out of the wall – or rather out of the prison cell beside him, and broke his neck as he struggled ineffectually.

Elizabeth stepped forward in alarm as the guard slumped to the floor. "Who's there?"

A man clad only in his undergarments stood inside the cell. "My name is Riordan. I am Senior Grey Warden of Jader. Do I assume correctly that you are intruders, rather than legitimate guards here?" He picked the cell key off the dead guard's belt and unlocked the door, then began to strip the guard and put his clothes on.

Elizabeth relaxed slightly. He wasn't making any hostile moves towards them – yet – although she feared he would be terrifying to combat. "I am Elizabeth, and this is Alistair, and we are the last Fereldan Wardens. Does this mean the Orlesians will be coming to aid us against the Blight?"

"I'm afraid not at this point," Riordan said, still dressing himself. "We had two hundred Wardens and two dozen divisions of support troops standing ready after King Cailan invited us to join him." Alistair whistled in astonishment. "But we heard nothing else, so I was sent to investigate about a month after King Cailan died; unfortunately, Lord Loghain caught me and had me thrown to the tender mercies of his new Arl of Denerim. I have been here ever since. The Orlesian Wardens still do not know your plight in any detail, and at this point it would take too long to send for aid, I think, from what I overhear Howe saying. You have a month at most before the country is overrun, although Loghain still thinks he can unite the nation and beat them back without Warden help. More fool he."

Elizabeth stepped back, feeling a little weak. "So little time?" They really had wasted a lot of time in the Frostback Mountains.

Riordan nodded. "From what I understand, if you do not unite the country and take offensive action against the darkspawn _now_ , you will never be able to."

"Understood," Alistair said gravely. "Right now we're rescuing the queen to try and do the first part. Care to help us?"

Riordan shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm a bit weak from my imprisonment and torture. I would only slow you down."

"Then go to Arl Eamon's estate," Alistair said. "Wait for us there."

"I will do so. Come as quickly as you can. We will have much to discuss."

"Will you be all right?" Elizabeth asked.

"I will sneak out just as you sneaked in," Riordan said with a confident smile. "Do not worry for me. I will go directly to Arl Eamon and wait for your return. Good luck!"

There was another door in the room, a door that led to a narrow, spiraling staircase leading down into the depths of the castle. Elizabeth had to stoop to descend, but the direction of the spiral favoured her sword against anyone coming up.

The lower levels of the castle were poorly lit and damp, and the horrid stench of rotting flesh invaded her nostrils like a miasma. Elizabeth strode forward, throwing caution away. She hardly cared if Howe were waiting with a hundred guards. She just wanted to find him. Cynically, she followed the distant sound of screaming.

There were quite a few prisoners in the cells of the castle of the Arl of Denerim, and she did get a little sidetracked by their pleas. Many of them seemed to be decent people locked up wrongfully, whether for crossing Howe or to get them out of the way of his political ambitions, or maybe just because they had looked at him wrong; there were whispers calling him the Butcher of Denerim and there were almost more rotting corpses than prisoners. She wanted to release many of them, but where they could go with all the guards upstairs, she did not know; they were probably safer here for the time being. She resolved that, when Howe was dead, someone should come for the poor souls trapped here.

The last door was slightly ajar, and she could hear Howe's nasal voice drifting from it, mixed with screaming.

Elizabeth kicked in the door. "Rendon Howe!"

Howe, in armour and carrying a pair of war-axes, didn't even have the grace to look surprised. "Well, well, if it isn't Bryce Cousland's little spitfire, all grown up and still playing the man. Are you here about your family? Still? What's the point? The Couslands have been wiped from Ferelden memory and the only one left is a husk of a daughter only likely to end her life under a rock in the Deep Roads. Even the Wardens are gone. You are the last of nothing. Why not go crawl into a hole somewhere and give up?"

"You love to hear yourself talk still, I see," Elizabeth growled. "Why did you betray my father? You were his friend; he trusted you!"

"Bryce was a traitor and a coward," Howe spat. "He made trips to Orlais, gave gifts to old enemies, with no recognition for me! He squandered glory that was rightfully mine! I always deserved more! It's only right his death raised me to the ear of the new king. As for you and your companions…" He blinked at Zevran. "Wait… aren't you… You're the one I hired to kill her! What are you doing here with her!?"

"Oh, this and that," Zevran said with a casual shrug, draping himself against Elizabeth's shoulder. She ignored him, still glaring daggers at her nemesis. "You can't deny that Liz is a lot prettier than you are, _and_ she doesn't kill people for failure."

"You will still die for your failure," Howe said coldly. "Well, it seems the Cousland penchant for effortless popularity lives on a moment longer, but you will not hold me back again. There it is! Right there! That damned look in the eye that marked every Cousland success that held me back. It would appear you've made something of yourself after all. Your father would be proud." Howe's voice sank into a threatening hiss. "I, on the other hand, want you dead more than ever."

There was a dead silence.

Then the room erupted into chaos. "Howe!" Elizabeth screamed, and charged recklessly, smashing through the line of guards who tried to run to block her. She had the vague idea that Alistair was to her right and Zevran was to her left; her helmet was knocked from her head as she ducked a sword swing. Then she was through the line, and slammed bodily into Howe shield-first.

His head made a satisfying crack as it met the stone wall of the dungeon; he lashed out with one of his war-axes and she felt it graze the side of her neck; a slight tug as it caught on her right hairbun and then she smashed her shield into him three more times, trying to beat him into submission before she went for the kill.

"Maker spit on you," Howe croaked. "I made your mother kiss my feet as she died – it was the last thing your father saw-"

Elizabeth screamed wordlessly, brought her sword back, and swung it two-handed at him.

Howe fell, headless, to the floor.

The cheap guard sword splintered on the stone wall behind him and broke in her hand. Still full of adrenaline and rage, she screamed again, throwing the hilt to the floor and punching the wall. It jarred her up to the shoulder, and she did it again, and again, relishing the pain, until Zevran seized her hands and trapped her in his arms. She shook violently, letting out one more hoarse, frustrated cry, and then slumped against him, gasping in shuddering breaths. The hair on the right side of her head was loose and falling around her face. She hated when it did that.

She reached up, distractedly, and found that Howe had neatly cut the braid from the right side of her head, and she was bleeding slightly on her neck. It didn't hurt. Yet.

There was a faint cry from the other side of the room, and Elizabeth turned, dazed, to see what was going on. Zevran didn't let go of her, and she didn't shrug him off. She needed his hand on her shoulder to remind herself that everything was real, that she had just avenged her family and was still breathing.

Alistair and Morrigan had taken care of the rest of the guards, including a man in mage robes, and now were standing beside one of the racks in the chamber. A young man with blond hair was strapped there, and Alistair was busily undoing his bonds. He freed the man as Elizabeth arrived, and helped him stand.

The man was weak, but he had a noble bearing, and looked around at them all with a slightly haughty frown. "I… take it my father didn't send you to rescue me, then, with all that talk of Cousland."

"Unless your father is Arl Eamon, I'm afraid not," Alistair said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Oswyn, son of Bann Sighard of Dragon's Peak. You have the gratitude of Dragon's Peak Bannorn, and if you speak to my father, he will give you any reward you ask for." He looked sadly at his limbs. "I'm afraid I won't be good for much, after my time in the torture chambers here. I can barely raise my arms anymore."

"Will he speak against Loghain in the Landsmeet?" Elizabeth asked faintly.

"He had been told that there was no Landsmeet, not with the Arl of Redcliffe dead. But… if Arl Eamon sent you… then yes. If there is any public forum to speak against Howe's legacy and the master who should have kept a tighter leash on him, then yes, my father will be first among them. Will you help me out of this castle?"

"We do seem to have plenty of guard uniforms," Alistair said. "Elizabeth, how about you help him escape? The rest of us will deal with… what we came here for."

"Very well," Elizabeth agreed wearily.

Morrigan glanced at her. "You'll probably want to do something about your hair. It looks quite odd."

Elizabeth found a dagger and – not without a wince of regret – cut the hair from the other side of her head.

Morrigan nodded. "Passable. Put your helmet on and no one will know the difference." Elizabeth did so, and followed the others back to the stairway to the living quarters.

Erlina had disappeared when they returned to Anora's door, but when Elizabeth knocked, Erlina answered. Behind her stood Anora, as tall as Elizabeth in her own armour, although she moved a bit stiffly. "My thanks," she said. "Now, there are two kinds of people in this house: those loyal to Howe, and those loyal to me. If Howe's people find me, I'll be killed. If my own people find me, they will escort me back to my father, whom I am not sure will not also kill me. I must reach Arl Eamon at all cost."

"Understood," Elizabeth said. "We will escort you and Lord Oswyn there with all discretion."

But they had not gone ten paces before a swarm of guards, led by a lady knight, surrounded them. "Warden Elizabeth!" cried the lady knight. "In the name of the Regent, you are under arrest for the murder of Rendon Howe, Arl of Amaranthine and Denerim, and Teyrn of Highever."

Elizabeth and Alistair looked at each other. Loghain had gotten word awfully fast… or he was guessing.

"Who are you? Do you have any proof of that?" Zevran asked, clearly having come to the same conclusion.

"I am Cauthrien, lieutenant of Lord Loghain. Your leader is Lady Elizabeth Cousland, whose family was slain by Arl Howe for siding with the Orlesians. She was observed coming to Howe's estate, and I came as soon as I could – although since you are leaving, I presume I have come too late. I am here, therefore, to take you into custody. If you surrender, you will be shown mercy; otherwise, you shall all be slain here."

Elizabeth set her mouth in a firm line. How had they been observed? Had Zevran missed something? Had Howe's people been watching Erlina? Was this all an elaborate plot concocted by Anora, Howe, and Loghain jointly? No, that last couldn't be true. Howe had not expected her. And Anora would surely not get herself captured by Howe just to get Elizabeth captured by Loghain.

"I will surrender if you let my companions go," she said. "It is pointless to deny that I came here for my revenge, but my friends came only to help me. They have nothing to do with Howe personally. The crime is mine alone. If you will not, then yes, I will fight you, to defend my people."

"Liz," Zevran murmured, and she held out a hand to still him.

Cauthrien stared at her searchingly for a moment before nodding. "Come along, then."

Elizabeth offered her replacement guard sword hilt first, and Cauthrien's guards pulled her away from her friends, binding her hands behind her back. They led her to the front gate, where a covered wagon with the Mac Tyr emblem on the side waited.

Her friends watched her go, and she tried to smile encouragingly at them, but she couldn't.

.

Cauthrien sat with her, watching her carefully. Elizabeth closed her eyes and let herself slump a little. Her mother would be displeased, but she was exhausted and didn't care how Cauthrien perceived her.

"Why do you fight my lord?" Cauthrien asked suddenly. "Can you not see what he is trying to do for Ferelden?"

Elizabeth looked up. "I would rather not fight him. He left King Cailan to die, and seized his power, insisted that the Orlesians are a greater threat than the Blight, and allied with the man who slaughtered my family in cold blood, but he is also the Hero of River Dane, Ferelden's greatest general, and has fought the darkspawn fiercely – disregarding his questionable actions at Ostagar." She shrugged helplessly. "I don't know what to think."

"I see. Then know that you are working against the noblest man in Ferelden, who has suffered much to defend against the darkspawn invasion. Do you think he did not grieve his son-in-law and his King? No one was more loyal to the crown than him, but he did what he had to for the good of Ferelden. King Cailan should have listened to him instead of recklessly running out to fight with the Wardens. My lord did all he could to dissuade him, and held to his strategy instead of throwing away everything on impulsive, foolish sentiment. And since then, he has worked tirelessly, fighting the darkspawn and those opposed to him alike."

"As for hating the Orlesians, he has good cause. When he was a boy, he had a mabari companion who was kidnapped and tortured to death by an Orlesian noble. He fought against them with King Maric for years, and did you know that King Cailan was suspiciously friendly with Empress Celene? The Orlesians could attack at any time, and he does not want to fight Orlesians, rebellious Banns, and the darkspawn at the same time, but he is prepared to."

"Surely the Orlesians will not attack while we are besieged by a Blight," Elizabeth said. "I heard they were prepared to ride to our aid, with their Wardens in the lead."

"You are naive," Cauthrien told her. "Perhaps they would help us in the Blight, but then what would happen after? You think they would simply ride home again? At the very least we would owe them a debt, one we cannot repay. At best, we would be ripe for the taking. The farther away they are, the quicker Ferelden can build up again, once we defeat the darkspawn, to present a strong front against Orlais."

"I never thought of it that way," Elizabeth said. "I was only thinking about surviving."

"And that is why you should not interfere with my lord's designs. He considers all things, not just the present. He would rather die than let the country fall into enemy hands so easily."

Elizabeth met Cauthrien's intense stare with one of her own. "And he would let the country die with him?"

"Even the Blight will not wipe out all of us," Cauthrien insisted.

"How did you come into Loghain's service?"

"I lived on a farm when I was young, as Lord Loghain himself did. One day, I saw a man attacked by bandits and ran to his aid. He didn't need it, as it was my lord, but he took me into his service and trained me personally into the knight I am today."

"You are a good and loyal knight," Elizabeth said, "and you have given me much to think about. My companion Alistair only hates Loghain because his mentor died at King Cailan's side, but… no story only has one side. Thank you for telling me yours."

"I am pleased to know you can see sense," Cauthrien said. "From what I heard of you, you were a stubborn, naive idealist convinced that my lord is evil."

"I knew Howe was evil," Elizabeth said, "and to hear Loghain trusted him was… disturbing."

"That, I will grant you," Cauthrien said frankly. "My lord… changed after he began working with Arl Howe. But inside, he still is as he ever was: a good man in a hard place. Come, we have arrived."

.

She was escorted to the dungeon of Fort Drakon, the castle on the side of the mountain overlooking Denerim, untied, made to change into a worn, ragged dress, and pushed none-too-gently into a barred cell. There was another prisoner in the cell next to her, but otherwise, the cell block was quiet. She sat quietly in the corner. There was no point in trying to escape from Fort Drakon.

"Hey, lassie!" the prisoner next to her called. "Whatcha in here for?"

"Killing Rendon Howe," she answered.

"Good on you! 'Bout time the Butcher of Denerim got his come-uppance. What for? I mean, lots of people hate him. He's been on a bloody rampage ever since he became Arl of Denerim. But what did he do to you specifically?"

"He killed my family," Elizabeth said.

"The usual, then. Me, I'm in here for theft. I was just trying to feed my wife and kids! How was I supposed to know he was a nobleman, dressed like he was? And then he kicked up a row and now I'm in maximum security even though I'm just a poor man off the street."

Elizabeth did not try to speak to the prisoner further, and he gave up trying to talk to her.

After about an hour, there was a bit of a noise at the door, and she looked up to see Loghain entering the cell block. She watched him walk to her cell but made no move to stand. She wondered how pathetic she looked, in her ragged dress and with ugly chopped hair.

"Elizabeth Cousland," he said.

She nodded once. "That was my name before I became a Grey Warden."

"You bear some loyalty to that name still, or you would not have broken into Rendon's estate."

"How could you reward him for massacring my family?" she asked. "He claims it was because they were friendly with Orlais. I know he did it out of his lust for power and control. You gave him Highever, you gave him Denerim. He would have come for you too. He caused discord among the Banns and imprisoned and tortured the innocent. Why would you keep such a snake in your house?"

"He was useful to me," Loghain said, frowning, "and I do not have to explain my actions to one who has spent the last six months tramping from one side of Ferelden to another to no purpose."

"We have each done our part for Ferelden," she said. "I have only heard a little, but you have held off the Blight while I sought to gather an army. If we could only unite the Banns under one leader, Ferelden would be stronger for both of us."

"What army have you gathered? A handful of mages who would have answered the king anyway, a troop of Dalish, dwarves who have never left their tunnels?"

She swallowed. "I worked hard to convince them to join Ferelden. At least let them fight."

"You are a child," he said, but it was not unkindly. "You remind me of Anora, when she was your age; quieter, perhaps, but no less stubborn. You have worked hard to achieve very little. I hear you are a gifted warrior. I regret that I must have you executed."

"But-"

He lifted a hand. "You – the Grey Wardens are a threat to me. Not only for murdering my adviser, but because you divide the country against me. Your superior, Duncan, said that victory would not be achieved through force of arms alone. He is incorrect. Be grateful that you will miss the violence to come."

That brought her to her feet. "I will be grateful for no such thing! If my friends are to fight, I will fight with them!"

"I'm afraid not," he said, and turned to go.

She was shaking with anger. "How long."

"What?"

"At least tell me how long I have left to live here."

"Evening." Loghain left.

She glanced at the window in the top of the cell block. She still had a couple hours.

First thing: she had to get out of the cell. She flopped on the floor and coughed violently. After a few minutes she began to groan as if in pain.

"Hey!" yelled her fellow prisoner. "I think this girl's sick!" The lone guard made no answer. "No, really, she sounds bad!"

"I think I'm going to die," she gasped. "Howe… poisoned me."

"She's gonna die of poison! At least give her some medicine!"

"All right, all right, stop your yammering," the guard said, approaching them. He unlocked the door to Elizabeth's cell. "Right, now what kind of pois-"

Elizabeth launched herself upwards, fist first, into his jaw. His jaw clicked shut loudly, his head snapped back, and he fell backwards, unconscious, to the ground.

"Er, I knew you were bluffing!" the other prisoner said, uncertainly. "Good going. Now let's get us both out of here."

"Can you fight?" Elizabeth said, taking the guard's uniform and sword. It was a little big on her but she didn't care. "It might be safer for you to stay here if you are not due to be executed. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm just trying to survive."

"Can't you… you know… knock out one of the other guards and take his uniform?"

"I can try," she said doubtfully. "I'll be back if I have an opportunity."

She had to sneak up on the guards at the entrance to the prison; she kicked one in the groin and gave the other a concussion. When both were unconscious, she dragged them arduously back to the cells, unlocked her fellow prisoner, and locked up the guards.

"Thank you," said the other prisoner, bowing to her deeply. "I am in your debt. I'll hide in the kennels until I can find a way to leave; the mabari like me."

"Good luck," she told him. "I… am going to improvise."

"Good luck to you."

.

She peeked shyly around the corner of the captain's office. "E-excuse me, ser, I'm new here, and I was wondering what my assignment was."

"Come in, recruit. None of that dithering." The captain glared at her impatiently. "What's your name, soldier?"

"A-agatha Dunkelwater, ser."

"Dunkelwater… Dunkelwater… Don't remember a Dunkelwater. You're new, soldier?"

"Yes, ser. What should I do, ser?"

"You can find the rest of your patrol. Ross and Harald are scheduled on in ten minutes and they can show you the ropes. Off with you."

"Um, um, ser, where do I find them?"

"They should be in the armoury, suiting up. Dismissed."

She scurried to the door and down the hall. Two men were in the armoury as she had been told, and she pretended still to be shy as she approached them. "Ummm… excuse me?"

"Oh, look, Ross, it's a chick! And a cute one, too!"

"Shut up, Harald, she's in uniform, that means she's not for hitting on. Yes, miss?"

"Why not, though?" whined Harald. "With all the darkspawn news going around, I could use a girlfriend to cheer me up!"

"Um, um, I've been assigned to patrol with you. I'm new here, you see, and…"

"Right, right. Lucky for you, our patrol doesn't go too far from the fort. Come on, lass, stand up straight, look like a proud soldier." She put on her best gormless look and did as Ross said. "That's better. Now, after me: march!"

"How come she's following you?" Harald complained.

"And don't mind Harald, he got dumped two weeks ago. His girlfriend decided she'd rather live in Kirkwall. He's not a bad sort underneath. Harald, you do remember today's password, right?"

"Password?" she asked nervously.

"Right, you have to have a password not just to get in to the fort, but out again," Harald said. "It's a right pain, especially when we've got duties and stuff. Yeah, I remember it. You ready to go, new girl? What's your name, anyway?"

"A-agatha, ser."

"Ooh, she called me ser, are you sure-"

"Quite sure," Ross said. "Just follow us, Agatha, and we'll make sure your first patrol is nice and uneventful."

They marched out of the fortress without incident, and once outside, Elizabeth began looking for opportunities to sneak away. The other two guards were very attentive to her, as their apprentice, and she wasn't sure it was going to work, especially since there were other people in the street as well. Perhaps if she claimed she needed a bathroom…?

Then she saw Zevran, waving enthusiastically at her from a dark ally. She frantically shook her head, putting a finger to her lips, and he put his head on one side, confused. She looked at the two guards ahead of her, but they hadn't been looking. How to communicate with him… and the others whom she now saw were behind him.

He drew a finger over his throat while pointing to the two guards, and she shook her head, instead gesturing to herself and making a roundabout gesture. He shrugged and disappeared.

A few minutes later, Sten and Oghren appeared in the road carrying a table sideways. Elizabeth stepped back to let them pass, her escorts stepped forward, and Zevran grabbed her hand and ran to the next alley behind the shield of the table.

He was grinning. "Not so bad, eh? How did you get out?"

"Knocked out the guard in the cells and took his uniform… Oh dear, now they're looking for me. They're not bad people, they just work for Loghain." She let her head fall forward tiredly. "Did Anora make it safely?"

"She did, and she was very upset about you. Not that she would have done anything differently. Let's be away before your new friends find us and I have to kill them anyway."

.

Elizabeth and Alistair were shown in to Arl Eamon's study, where Anora had apparently set up. The Queen had changed into a gown more fitting of her position. Zevran unobtrusively took a spot beside the doorway. Huan was there and he frisked all over her, barking, before she got him to settle down and lie on the floor beside her.

"Maker's breath, it's good to see you in one piece," Eamon said.

Anora rose and took her hands. "I was praying for your safe return. I know it seemed like a trap when Cauthrien arrived, and perhaps it was, but I promise you it was not one I set. I was… uncertain you would respond as you did, but you risked much to save me and I am truly grateful."

"I am glad to see you arrived safely," Elizabeth said. "I… met your father."

"My father?" Anora frowned. "What did he say?"

"He said I am a threat to Ferelden, and that my work in gathering allies is a useless waste. I asked if he would not join forces with us rather than fight us, but he refused."

Anora shook her head. "My father was always stubborn, even before he… changed. He has gone mad. I didn't believe it at first, but he is gripped with a paranoia so severe it prevents him from seeing sense. He believes he can see this through with his own strength. Your allies are powerful, and he downplays them for his own mind. But come, we must work quickly to come up with a plan that will remove him from power."

"Yes, what do you have in mind?" Elizabeth asked.

"My father will probably even now be telling his allies that you and your companions are dangerous murderers who have kidnapped and mind-controlled me. He may even believe it."

"Is there no way to reason with him?"

"I'd thought so. I'd hoped so. Howe's influence over him was strong, and his death can only be a good thing."

"Wait, Howe's death, or Loghain's death?" Alistair raised a questioning finger.

Anora looked coldly at him. "Howe's death, of course. But it is too little, too late – my father is committed to his course. Now, there are two accusations you can bring against him in the Landsmeet. One is the death of my husband at Ostagar. The other is the attempted poisoning of Arl Eamon. However, Ostagar is only an exercise in 'what if'. My father will be able to dismiss that claim easily; after all, they say that no one, not even Cailan, believed victory was possible at Ostagar. The poisoning of Arl Eamon is not terribly strong, either, since I understand the poisoner has gone missing and cannot be questioned. Anyone could have done it, or his sickness caused by something else entirely. Miraculous recovery by the Sacred Ashes of Andraste will not be believed by everyone."

"So we have nothing, really, then," Elizabeth said.

"We must find something," Anora told her. "Or rather, you must find something – I dare not leave this estate until the Landsmeet. Something that nails my father in a crime. It cannot be one of Howe's crimes, either. It must have his name firmly attached."

"Sounds good," Alistair said cheerfully. "Any ideas where to start?"

"The alienage is in great unrest," Anora said. "It began shortly after Ostagar, but few elves went to the battle – which means Howe and my father must have given them reason to be upset. We only have two days – one day, really, since you look exhausted, and that is tomorrow. I want you to investigate. This is our only chance. You must find something."

"We shall do so, Your Majesty," Elizabeth said.

"With due respect, Your Highness, you could have sent this information with your maid," Eamon said.

Anora nodded. "I know. I feared for my safety as Howe's prisoner, but the true reason I sent Erlina was the hope that we might become allies. I know you require a stronger candidate for the throne than my father, and I know you hope to raise Alistair to the position, but even with his blood, he is no king. Surely all can see it. Besides that, he is a Grey Warden, and it will look as if you are attempting to put a Grey Warden on the throne, which I know is not permitted by that order."

"That's true," Alistair said, looking hopeful.

"I am already queen. Who do you think has run the country for the last five years? Cailan tried to help, and he was charismatic and popular, but in truth I did most of the work. This country needs a strong ruler, not an untested one who does not even want the throne."

"Alistair has learned much on his journey," Eamon said. "It is true he has not been tested as you have, but he knows how to lead troops to defend his land, how to stand and fight for justice, he knows compassion and mercy, and he knows the perils of responsibility. And he is of Theirin blood, descended four hundred years from King Calenhad himself – a line so venerable should not be broken now. And he is so like to his brother he would soon garner great popularity. Besides, that is what advisors are for."

"Oh good, it's a popularity contest," Alistair mumbled.

"Why not marry them?" Zevran suggested from the doorway. "Best of both worlds! Happens all the time in Antiva."

"This is not Antiva," Anora scoffed. "And even if he… were not so like to Cailan, it would still… be odd."

"I don't know either," Alistair said. "I wasn't looking to become king, but becoming king and married? That's… um… a lot to take in."

"It is a good suggestion," Eamon said. "I suggest that we all think on it."

Anora nodded. "Very well. Now, I shall retire to my chambers. Elizabeth, if you would join me for a moment, I have something I wish to say in private."

"I shall be there presently," Elizabeth said.

When Anora had left, Eamon sighed and shook his head. "So spirited. I remember when Loghain first brought her to Denerim. Poor Cailan was a good boy, but Anora was always two steps ahead. Had him jumping when she snapped her fingers from the first time she batted her eyelashes at him. She may be trouble. But I am glad she is here instead of actively working against us."

"Is it really such a big deal, her not having royal blood?" Alistair asked. "My mother was a maid."

"We did not fight the Orlesians all those years just to lose our royal line in a single generation," Eamon said. "Not when there's a surviving son of the blood. Your mother may have been a maid, but your father was still Maric Theirin."

"The crown looks better on her anyway," Alistair grumbled under his breath. "You know, what have fun planning my future. I'm going to go talk to Riordan. He knew Duncan. I think he was at my Joining."

"Elizabeth, you should hurry to speak with Anora," Eamon said as Alistair left. "Alistair will come around."

She bowed and left.

.

Anora was waiting for her and Erlina was serving tea. "Hello, Elizabeth. Let me begin by saying I knew your family. Eleanor in particular was dear to me, and what Howe did to them… was unforgivable. I think it very fitting that he died at your hands." Elizabeth nodded, not trusting herself to speak. "I will be blunt. You have shaped the fate of the nation immensely, and Eamon respects you for good reason. I would ask for your support in my bid for the throne."

"I am no longer a Cousland," Elizabeth objected, for the umpteenth time, it felt like. "Just as you say Alistair would be unsuitable for kingship because he is a Grey Warden, would my vote even be heard in the Landsmeet?" She looked at the floor. "I cannot even suggest anyone to take care of poor Highever."

"I will certainly appoint a suitable person, should I become Queen," Anora said. "A good Bann, a young one, perhaps… what would you say to Bann Teagan?"

Elizabeth had to smile. "He is a good man. He reminds me a little of my brother. Assuming he could be persuaded away from Rainesfere, I could think of no one better."

"I will keep him in mind, then. Now, to further discuss our alliance…"

.

When she was finally allowed to return to her own bedchamber, she closed the door and stood indecisively for a long time. Huan was in the arl's mabari kennels. She was so tired with everything that had happened, and it seemed that more of it would be happening.

She went to sit at the lady's table, looking at herself carefully for the first time in months. It was dark outside, and her only illumination was from a pair of lamps, but she could see enough. Her light blue eyes were tired and there were grey shadows around them. Her dark brown hair was short for the first time since she was a little girl, and if she looked more carefully… Yes, there were grey hairs beginning to appear, not all in one place, scattered through her scalp. She reached for her knife and tried to even the edges a bit more; the left side was still longer than the right side.

Zevran took the knife from her and laid it on the table. "Let me get that." He picked up instead a pair of scissors and moved around behind her, running his fingers through her hair. She closed her eyes and let him snip away. "You look cute with short hair."

"I liked having long hair," Elizabeth said. "I know it will grow out, but I've had long hair for years." She tried not to let out a sniffle. It was just hair. "How did you get in?"

"The window."

"You are crazy."

He chuckled. "I know." He paused, measuring both sides to see if they were even, then went back to snipping. "You were magnificent, fighting Howe. Such fury and grace and implacable doom I have never seen."

"You flatter me," she said.

"I assure you, I do not. But you also scared me today, when you went off with that woman. I thought I would never see you again."

"Loghain is not Howe. He wouldn't make me disappear even if I am an inconvenience. Besides, you were coming to get me."

"I don't know if we would have made it. We all had different stupid ideas for getting in. I was pushing for me and Oghren to be circus performer brothers, come to entertain the soldiers." She had to smile at that. "Though I don't know how we would have gotten down to the cells."

"There were a lot of guards in the way," she agreed.

His movements slowed. "…There's one story that I never told you about. Would you like to hear it now?"

"Yes," she said.

"Once, there were three of us. Taliesin was there, and me, and… Rinna. An elven lass, and a marvel of a woman. Tough, smooth, wicked, with eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired."

"She sounds perfect," Elizabeth said admiringly, though she was wondering how much she herself felt short of Zevran's ideal. She wasn't any of those things.

"She was special," Zevran said, and his voice wasn't quite even around the edges. "I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something within me. It frightened me." He put down the scissors and ran both hands through her hair before beginning to braid it in a french braid. Even if his voice was tight, his hands were steady. "There was a time, until a certain day, when I was cocky and arrogant. I believed myself the best Crow in Antiva, and I bragged of my exploits often, both as an assassin and a lover."

She wanted to tease him about being more cocky and arrogant but couldn't bring herself to. He wasn't that arrogant. "What happened?"

"One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise… A wealthy merchant with many guards, to be dispatched completely silently. …When Taliesin revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant and told him of our plan, I agreed- I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesin to kill her." He tied her hair with a ribbon and leaned on the back of her chair, knuckles white. She was completely still; she could partly see him in the mirror, but his head was bowed. "Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed me. …I laughed in her face and told her that even if it were true, I didn't care. Taliesin cut her throat and I watched her bleed out, staring up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows. When Taliesin and I finally assassinated the merchant, we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us after all."

His voice had sunk to a whisper and his arms were shaking. "I… wanted to tell the Crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesin convinced me not to; he said it would be a waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. …We needn't have bothered. The Crows knew what we had done. The master who disliked me told me so to my face. He said the Crows knew… and they didn't care. And one day, my turn would come."

"…You once asked me why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted… was to die. That was why… I came all the way to Ferelden, with rumours of darkspawn, hoping… hoping there would be something here that would finish me. I thought it might be you; what better death than at the hands of one of the fabled Grey Wardens? But… you spared me. And… here I am."

She spun the chair around, so quickly he almost fell over, and launched herself at him, throwing her arms around him and holding him as tightly as she could. He staggered backwards until they bumped into the wall, and there they rested, and he put his arms around her and held her just as tightly, clinging to her as if to reassure himself that she was real. She put her head on his shoulder and felt his face was damp; he had been crying as he spoke and the thought almost made her burst into tears as well, but she controlled it and stood quietly. "You've had the most awful life. I'm so sorry."

"It… has been difficult sometimes to keep smiling," he murmured. "I swore I would never talk about it, but I am glad that I told you."

"Do you still want to die?"

She felt him shake his head slightly. "No. No, not anymore. I found you."

"I am not… not her."

"You don't have to be, _mi amor_ ," he whispered, and kissed her neck. She lifted her head and kissed him on the mouth, and then they were kissing each other almost in a frenzy. He loosened her hair from the braid he had just put it in and they tumbled onto the bed. As their clothes came off, she used everything he himself had taught her, every trick and technique, until his eyes rolled back and he whined in pleasure. And she opened herself to him more fully than she had yet dared to do, for she was free too now, in a way. As he cried out, a strangled sound that might have started as her name, she came too, arching her back as she rode him. He reached up and caught her as she came down, drawing her down to him, their sticky, sweaty bodies cooling off together on top of the blankets.

"Zev… oh… Zev…"

He laughed breathlessly. "I always knew you would fall for me. I should have warned you from the moment we met."

"You're a danger to the public," she agreed, giggling a little.

"They used to post signs about me at the Antivan border," he said, and made her giggle harder.

When her laughter had lapsed into contented silence, she thought of another thing she wanted to say. "That's why I believed you, when we met."

"Hm? Because you knew you would fall for me? Are you clairvoyant?"

She smiled, but more seriously this time. "Because of your eyes then. I always wondered why someone so joyful would look so… hopeless."

"Do I look so now?"

She looked deep into his amber eyes. They were curious, a little worried, but not lost; there was a spark there that could not co-exist with hopelessness. "No."

He kissed her.

.

Author's note: Liz vs. Howe is set to Attack on Titan from SnK. Also Liz's personal theme song is Go Away by Delain.

I realize that one interpretation of the facts presented in the game could be that Anora is a lying, scheming, manipulative psychopath who completely plays the Warden into breaking her out and removing all her obstacles to power... but that is not this Anora. This story's dark enough already without her being horrible too. XD


	12. Landsmeet

Landsmeet

.

The servants who came to wake her the next morning were scandalized to find she was not alone; she waved them away impatiently and set about getting dressed while Zevran lounged indolently in her bed. After a minute he also rose and did her hair again. She would take everyone into the alienage, even though they were mostly humans and likely to arouse great attention and suspicion. She wanted safety in numbers, unlike the day before.

As she approached the locked gate to the alienage, the guard on duty did a double-take and called to her. "Lady Elizabeth!" Huan barked at him in greeting.

She jumped in her turn. "Who- John?"

The guard had been a soldier of Highever, long months ago, before anything bad had happened to her home and family. "Lady Elizabeth, you're all right!"

She couldn't help the smile spreading across her face. "So you did make it to Denerim. Are …the others here too?"

"Yes, my lady. Gemmet and Elra moved into the alienage here, and I got a job as a city guard, as you can see. They've been looking for work as servants, but it's been getting harder to find jobs with many rich people moving to Kirkwall or the Free Marches. Usually they come down to the gate every week or so to say hello, but… they should have been yesterday, and they haven't."

"I heard there was some unrest here," Elizabeth said. "I hope they are all right."

"Aye, my lady. There's some kind of plague or sickness going around, and they kept their distance the last couple times they came to visit. I… really hope they haven't gotten sick. But what brings you here, my lady?"

"Many things," Elizabeth said. "I became a Grey Warden, and survived the Battle of Ostagar. Since then, I've been wandering Ferelden with my friends and companions, whom you see beside me, and I've come to investigate the unrest in the hopes it will give me a clue to uniting Ferelden against the Blight."

"The Blight? So… there really is one?" John gave a curious look at her many varied companions, especially at Zevran, who stood a little closer than was strictly necessary.

"I'm afraid so," Elizabeth said. "I have seen the archdemon. It… is terrifying."

"I imagine it is, my lady. Well, I'm really not supposed to let people in because of the sickness, but I won't cause trouble for you. Just… don't tell anyone it was me who let you in?"

"I will not say anything," Elizabeth said, and smiled. "Stay safe, John. Howe is dead and I want to see you back at Highever when the Blight is defeated."

"Thank you, my lady, and you too."

The alienage was differently laid out than the one in Highever, but it shared some basic characteristics with the one she knew. There were the squalid shacks, built five high to save on space, and there was the great oak tree that every alienage had at its centre, which Zevran told her was the Vhenadahl. "Elves plant these to remind themselves of what they once were. And then they pee on it. Charming symbolism, really." Huan also wanted to pee on it, and while she tried to stop him, she couldn't be sure that he had not after she turned her back.

She also noticed many elves lying or sitting in the street, more than she remembered in Highever; many of them looked listless and vacant, and many of them coughed or cried of pain. She wanted to do something for them, but she knew little of healing and certainly nothing of healing sickness.

Besides, gathered by the tree was a large crowd of angry elves. Their murmurs had not grown into shouts, but she knew something was wrong and asked Zevran and Leliana to investigate. She skirted the edge of the crowd, asking more isolated residents what was going on.

It seemed, when they regrouped and pooled their knowledge, that some Tevinter healers had come to the alienage to cure the illness. While they did seem to heal some people, it was said that they took many healthy people 'to inoculate them', people who were never seen again. When she asked about their Hahren, she was told he was among those missing. The crowd had been protesting for weeks if not months, and nothing had changed.

She turned to Alistair. "We have to get into the house the Tevinter are using. But the crowd is also trying to get in and they are turned away – and in the way."

"Here, follow me. We found something," Leliana said, and leaving the larger members of the group behind, Elizabeth slipped away with the her and Zevran, heading into a tiny back alley that led into a back street. The house had a rear entrance, and an elf stood guard there in obviously-borrowed Tevinter armour.

"No one's allowed in," the elf said, looking at them nervously – if it came to a fight, he was clearly outnumbered and overpowered.

"That's fine," Leliana said in a businesslike manner. "How much do they pay you?"

"Er… ten silvers a day."

"I'll give you three sovereigns if you let us in and forget you ever saw us," Leliana said, showing him the money. "And you might want to keep your head down – I'm sure it will get messy."

"We want to help the elves," Zevran put in. "Help us help you."

The elf looked at the money with wide eyes, and back at them, hesitating.

"I'll give you another three sovereigns," Zevran said cheerfully, and produced his own. "Genuine, at least it was when I was given it."

"All right," the elf said. "I'm going to go take a toilet break." He took the coins and walked away.

"Easy easy," Leliana said as now she bent to pick the lock. "This won't take a minute."

The door opened and Elizabeth went first, with her shield drawn but not her sword.

She was spotted almost immediately. "Who are you and what are you doing in here?" shouted an angry Tevinter, and the next thing she knew, they were under attack. They were pressed back towards the back door by ten or so soldiers, and they were going to be trapped in a moment, when a crash shook the building and Shale burst through the front door with a grating warcry.

At that point, defeating the Tevinter soldiers was easy. Keeping the elves outside while she looked around was harder, especially when there were elves on stretchers crying out in fear and surprise.

"Elizabeth!" Wynne cried from a side room, and Elizabeth ran to her. The side room held an office, but behind the office was yet another room, and there…

There were elves in cages, cruelly small cages, or bound with ropes in corners. They shouted on seeing someone who was not Tevinter, reaching out their hands to them. Elizabeth called for Leliana, and told Wynne to search the office for any suspicious documents.

"Lady! Lady Elizabeth!" shouted one elf, and she turned with her eyes wide and alarmed.

"G-gemmet!?" Yes, that was his name. She barely remembered. "What was happening here?"

"They were healing some of us, but it's all a lie! They're slavers, my lady, please help us! They've taken Elra already! You have to save her!"

"Where?" she cried. "Where are they, where are they going?"

"There's a warehouse, I heard them talking about it, behind the house and to the left!"

That was all she needed; she was off running. Whether or not the others were behind her didn't matter. She might not know Gemmet and Elra well – if at all – but they were the last pieces of Highever left to her and she would defend them with everything she had now that she knew they were in trouble.

She flung open the first door on the warehouse at the end of the back street – nothing. She slammed it and ripped open the second one – Tevinter soldiers jumped to their feet. A stone came flying past her and smashed two of them to the ground. She called a thanks over her shoulder, drawing her sword, and hacking through the defenses of one of the others. Leliana killed the last one with an arrow, and then she was off again.

"Get them out of here!" someone shouted, and she arrived in the main room of the warehouse to see a covered wagon drawn by a pair of horses bolt through the loading doors on the other side of the room. She ran on after them, thanking everything that she didn't wear massive plate armour.

She arrived out onto the street, and the sun came out from behind clouds. She could see the cart turning the corner to the right ahead of her. "They're probably headed for the docks! Zevran, Leliana, don't let me lose them!"

Right!" she heard them call, and they climbed the building beside her as fast as she ran, skimming across the rooftops to keep the cart in view. The cart would have to slow down the closer it got to the docks, with all the people and other carts and things in the way. Even if they didn't care about running over civilians, the obstacles would become an issue for them, more than for her.

She rounded the corner with a skid and kept running. To her right, her two light-footed companions leaped to the next roof. "Keep going!" Zevran called to her, and she glanced up briefly to see his golden hair glimmer in the sunlight. Leliana was on the other side of the street from him now, her red hair flying.

At the next corner, the cart had startled a pair of yoked bulls and they had stampeded across the road and blocked it. To her surprise, Sten had caught up with her, probably because he was strong enough to disregard the weight of his armour, and his height gave him a longer stride than her. The Qunari moved smoothly over and grabbed the bulls by the horns, driving them back with brute strength until she could slip past them. "Don't stop running, kadan!"

She panted for air, just trying to keep her pace rhythmic and unbroken among the shocked crowds in the wake of the cart. Her armour rattled and her shield bounced on her back, her sword bounced at her side, and her feet were beginning to hurt with the force of her stride. Her heart hammered and her breath roared in her ears.

"Liz! Shortcut – take the next alley on the left! Then right again!" She ran on.

She came out of the alley closer to the cart – she could see it, she could hear the panic of the crowd as they scrambled out of the way of its mad charge, she could even hear the wailing of the elves inside. But she wouldn't be able to catch it before it reached the warehouses at the docks. She gritted her teeth and ran on.

Even if she did catch it, she realized, what could she do? Better to catch it just as it reached its destination, and see if the slavers there would fight her or not before the elves were unloaded and became targets. She vaulted over a pile of crates and ran on. Her legs were beginning to burn intensely, and her breath was beginning to come in gasps, but she pushed herself onward. If she paid for it later, she would pay for it later.

The cart reached a warehouse, made a sharp left, and almost tipped over entering it. The door slammed behind it, just as she smashed into the solid wood. There was a smaller door over on the side, and she drew her sword and kicked it, once, twice, three times. The lock on the inside of the door splintered and the hinges gave way, and she lunged in over the debris.

"Wait!" cried a cultured, commanding voice, and she stopped in the doorway, her sword and shield ready for combat, gasping for air and eyes flashing.

"What do you want?" she demanded, with all the air left in her lungs. Could she still fight? Yes, she could still fight. Especially if he wanted to talk first.

A Tevinter mage in furred robes stood at the centre of a group of armed guards facing her, tapping a silver staff against his open palm. "My question is, what do you want, Grey Warden? You've completely disrupted my entire operation here. What are you after?"

How did he know she was a Warden? Elizabeth glanced at the cart. Really, she was just after Elra, but there was also the source of the slavers to consider, and also the fact that she hated slavers on principle even if she had never met one before. "I want you out of Ferelden. Now. Or I kill you."

"Now that's hardly a deal, now, is it?" the mage cooed persuasively. "Let's be civil. My name is Caladrius, and I propose a counter-offer. I understand the Grey Wardens oppose your Lord Loghain. It would be terribly damning to him if it were to come out, say, that he authorized our activities here in return for appropriate compensation. So: I give you his original letter, with signature and seal, and the one slave that I hear you're after, and I take my earnings and the remaining slaves and return home."

Elizabeth shook her head and bared her teeth. "You give me the letter and leave every slave you have here. And that money should go to those you have deprived of kith and kin, though it is poor compensation. Leave everything and I'll let you leave with your worthless lives."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to refuse," Caladrius said regretfully. "I can't lose so much, and you're a little bit outnumbered."

"But not alone," Zevran cried, and most of her companions burst into the room behind her, except for Shale and Wynne – Shale was slow, and Wynne was not suited for running, if she had not been distracted caring for the elves in the first house.

"Oh, now, this should be interesting," Caladrius said, and grinned in anticipation. "Can you really stand against a Tevinter mage?"

The room exploded in fire. Elizabeth dove for cover behind a barrel. Caladrius was standing in the centre of the inferno, laughing, while his soldiers cowered around him.

"Ranged attacks for the soldiers! If we can get close to him, it's all over!" Fireballs hammered her barrel and she winced. Her shield wouldn't guard enough of her that she would be able to get close while this storm was going on. If Morrigan could do something…

A wave of icicles shot past her, and the mage shied back from them before redirecting his fire towards the door. Elizabeth snuck a peek around the barrel and saw that at least one guard was down from one of Leliana's arrows. As she watched, another guard began clawing at his face as it began to erupt in welts.

And then her dog, her dumb faithful dog, charged. Huan ducked a fireball, dodging and weaving, throwing himself at the mage and missing, and settling for attacking one of the remaining two guards, but if she didn't do something, he was going to be overwhelmed.

She yelled and charged, shield first. She felt immense heat blistering the paint from the steel of her shield, scorching the Cousland heraldry into blackness. Embers fell on her legs, but she didn't feel them through her drakescale boots. One guard rose up to challenge her, and she blocked his sword with her sword before Leliana's arrow pegged him in the leg and he fell with a shriek. Alistair was charging with her, drawing the attention of the guard on her exposed side.

The mage struck her with a blast of ice and the heat followed by such sudden intense cold made her gasp – it hurt so much it stole the air from her lungs. It was hard to move forward with suddenly stiff legs. But she kept going.

She struck him with her shield and he fell backwards, clutching his nose. When he saw she was standing over him, sword poised to stab, he raised one bloodied hand towards her defensively.

"Wait! Don't kill me! I can help you!"

Elizabeth waited impassively, condensation dripping from every part of her armour, her sword ready to strike, but motionless.

"I… I can make you stronger! No one will be able to stand against you in physical combat, not men, not darkspawn, not the archdemon!" His eyes darted back and forth nervously. "I just- I can take the lives and strength of all these elves and put them in you!"

Elizabeth was still motionless.

"Please don't tell me you're considering such a thing," Alistair said.

"As if I would," Elizabeth growled at Caladrius. "You don't understand a thing, do you! I'm fighting for these people, not for myself! I despise you!"

"A pity…" Caladrius suddenly seemed to regain some measure of dignity, and flung his hand towards her suddenly, lightning crackling along it. She ducked, feeling her hair stand on end even under her helmet, and slashed him across the chest. He wheezed and fell dead.

Elizabeth immediately turned to the cart, sheathing her sword and shield. "Are they all right? Elra! Are you in there? Everyone, search these buildings for elves!"

Oghren released the back door of the wagon and about twenty elves spilled out. Elizabeth searched their faces frantically, but she needn't have bothered. One brown-haired elf woman staggered in front of her and curtseyed to her. "I-it's good to see you, Lady Elizabeth."

Elizabeth reached out and hugged her close. "Thank goodness you're all right. I… know I was never the best noblewoman. But I've lost too much of Highever and I'm not losing you."

Elra shyly hugged her back. "Th-thank you, my lady. I-I didn't know you cared. But you are too hard on yourself. You are a fine noblewoman. You… always treated us elves with respect."

"I care now," Elizabeth said. "John told me he was worried about you, and then I found Gemmet in the first Tevinter house. He told me you were here and I came as fast as I could."

"You chased us all the way here," Elra said, giggling nervously. "You really have grown so much stronger, Lady Elizabeth."

"I cannot offer you a place to live," Elizabeth said, letting go of the woman finally. "Howe is dead, but Highever has no lord, and I cannot take that position as a Grey Warden. I have to fight the Blight, and then… I don't know."

"I understand," Elra said. "I can wait. Is there some way I can help my lady in the meantime?"

"Liz, darling," Zevran called, "that rotten scoundrel had the letter he was speaking of on his person." He bounded closer, handing her a flattened roll of paper with a kiss on the lips.

Elra stared. Elizabeth blushed. "I, ah, suppose many things have happened since Highever. One moment." She scanned the letter. It appeared genuine, and quite damning as far as Loghain was concerned. "If this doesn't convince Loghain to step down, nothing will." She looked at Elra. "Elves are just as much Fereldan citizens as humans, after all. I have an idea: you and Gemmet – and John – should all come to Arl Eamon's estate with me. He is a good man and will give you work until I can arrange something better, and then we can… um…"

"Become better acquainted?" Zevran suggested, with a wink.

"That," Elizabeth agreed. Zevran chuckled, clearly having implied something other than what she had caught, and she shot him a glare before turning back to Elra. "What do you think?"

Elra curtseyed. "As my lady wishes."

"I am not your lady anymore," Elizabeth said. "I am only a warrior. I lead a rag-tag band of misfits who are all older and more accomplished than I am, and leaders at all levels of state listen to me for reasons that are beyond my ability to comprehend."

"It's because you are still Lady Cousland inside," Elra said confidently. "May I go let Gemmet know I am safe? I'm sure he is worried sick about me."

"I'll go with you," Elizabeth said. "Alistair! You're in charge here. When you're done searching everything, I'll meet you at the Redcliffe estate."

"Understood," Alistair said cheerfully. "Have fun!"

"Wait," said an older elf. "I will come with you. I am Valendrian, Hahren of the Denerim alienage. I would like to let my people know I am safe, and thank you for your efforts on behalf of the elven people." The other elves who had been in the cart followed him.

"You are exactly the person I would like to speak to," Elizabeth said as they began to walk back – Alistair would escort any other rescued elves. "Do you know how long this has been going on?"

"The paper in your hand will probably tell you all you wish to know, but we have been suffering sickness since before King Cailan left for Ostagar. The Tevinter showed up a few weeks after Ostagar. How many they have taken, I cannot be sure, but it must be several hundred, a dozen or so every day." The elder sighed. "I tried to find out what was going on, to protect my people, but even I was powerless. Many ships must have sailed to Tevinter by now, and none of them will ever come back…"

"I am sorry," Elizabeth said. "I knew nothing of this until yesterday."

"We don't blame the Wardens," Valdenrien said. "Duncan was my friend, and he came to visit a couple weeks before Ostagar, and he offered what help he could, but the situation was not so bad then. And when he died, we did not expect that his successors would know of us."

That just made Elizabeth feel more regretful.

"Valendrien has been very good to us, my lady," Elra said earnestly. "He has been a great comfort since we came here from Highever."

"I'm glad," Elizabeth murmured. "You have my thanks."

.

Valendrien and his people were returned safely to their home, and many elves came to thank Elizabeth and Zevran after Valendrien announced that they were some of his rescuers. Gemmet hurried to them, and gave Elra a big hug; she also saw that an elf woman was following him, and after some prodding, he introduced his fiancée Firiel to them. She gathered them all, with their permission, and headed for the entrance to the alienage.

John brightened on seeing them. "Oh, you found them, my lady. Anything untoward?"

"Certainly," Elizabeth said a bit grimly. "Tevinter slavers almost made off with both of them. The danger is over, I believe, but I'm taking them to Arl Eamon's for my own peace of mind."

"Er, I'm not really supposed to let them out with the sickness and all…"

"I'll have my mage healer friend check all three once she returns from helping the remaining freed elves. I don't want Arl Eamon to become sick again either. And, John, you are also welcome to work for Arl Eamon."

"Would he really have need for another guard?"

"He owes me a small favour," Elizabeth said confidently. "Only tell whoever meets you that I sent you. That is, if you would like that. I don't have much power, certainly no property, or anything beyond what I earn as a mercenary, but I want to do what I can for you. I… have neglected my responsibility towards you for a long time."

"I'll resign after my shift," John said cheerfully. "Us Highever folk must stick together, Lady Elizabeth."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said. "I'll see you later, then, I'm sure."

"You certainly like collecting together the people who belong to you," Zevran commented as they walked on towards the estate. "Why are you so protective of them? Not that I am complaining, only curious."

"I don't like seeing the strong hurting the weak," Elizabeth said. "I suppose… The first instance I can think of is when I was a little girl, and I was playing in Highever Castle when I found some older squires bullying a younger squire. I was… six, maybe, and he was nine or ten, and the older boys were thirteen or fourteen… but I walked right up to them and told them to stop that. I formally took the boy into my service as my personal knight, and that's how Ser Gilmore became my best friend besides Huan… until Howe killed him."

"That's a downer ending," Zevran said.

"I wasn't a very good noblewoman then; I only knew Gemmet and Elra and the other servants by name and nothing more. But now that I realize that everyone's important, I want to protect everyone left to me. It's my own small way of looking to the future."

"Well, we appreciate it, my lady," Gemmet said, smiling shyly. "You were always kind to us, even if you didn't realize it. Your whole family was. We would have rather worked for you than any other noble house in Ferelden. And you're still kind to us."

"And you… your father was always good to us, but you are even more… um… progressive than him, if you have taken an elf for a lover," Elra mumbled even more shyly. "Any lover of yours would be your equal in your eyes."

"Wait, what?" Gemmet exclaimed. His fiancée Firiel gasped audibly.

Zevran turned, laughing. "Indeed, it's good to meet you. My name is Zevran, Zev to my friends, and I am an assassin from Antiva. We met when I tried to kill her and she knocked me down instead. She's quite a minx in bed, would you believe it?"

"My lady!" Elra and Gemmet said together. Elizabeth punched him in the arm and he ran off laughing, and she buried her face in her hand, blushing and exasperated.

.

.

Anora and Eamon were very excited by the contents of the Tevinter's letter, and Anora said she would rest a little more easily that evening. Arl Eamon asked to speak to her in private, and informed her that he had sent messengers on her behalf when they had left Redcliffe, asking her allies to gather at Redcliffe three days after the Landsmeet. "If we are successful, they can move immediately. If we are not successful… perhaps Loghain will still accept their help."

"I asked him if they might, while I was prisoner in Fort Drakon. He called me naive and avoided the question. I suppose we shall find out."

Zevran met her in her room again in the evening, and without any serious preamble they fell happily into bed together. It had been a while since she felt so lighthearted, and she worried it was inappropriate, but the Landsmeet tomorrow was sure to prove a challenging test for her one way or another, and after everything that had happened… one more night to be happy wouldn't hurt.

She told Zevran and he nodded mock-seriously. "See, that is my philosophy. You take the difficult times in your stride, and you seize the good times when they come. And I didn't know you could giggle so much. It's been an illuminating evening."

She giggled again, hiding the lower part of her face under the sheet so all he saw was her laughing blue eyes. He dropped a kiss on her forehead before half-rolling off the bed to get at something in the pile of his clothing. "It seems an appropriate time to give you this, then."

She took it from his outstretched hand curiously. It was a ring of gold set with rubies and sapphires. An attached pin, slightly bent, from being in his pocket perhaps, suggested it was an earring rather than a finger ring. "You don't have to, Zev."

"I may not have to, but I want to," he said, and she got the odd feeling that he was feeling shy. Surely there was some mistake. Zevran was never shy, in bed or in a crowd or on a battlefield. Cautious, yes, gentle, yes, seeking permission before trying anything new on her, yes, but not shy. "I acquired it on my very first mission for the Crows. The target was a Rivaini merchant prince, and he was wearing a single jeweled earring when I killed him. In fact, that was about all he was wearing."

"I am not surprised," she said, smiling.

"I am not surprised you are not surprised," he countered. "Anyway, I thought it was beautiful and took it to mark the occasion. It's… yours, now."

"That's all right," she said. "It's special to you. You should keep it." Inwardly, she was both delighted by the idea that he wanted to give her something, and slightly horrified that it was a trophy from his first kill. But she kept her face neutral, because really she was mystified as to why he would offer it at all.

"We killed Taliesin. As far as the Crows know, I died with him. That means I'm free, at least for now. You can… wear it, or sell, it or do whatever you like with it. It's the least I can give you."

"It's not as important to me as your presence," she said, trying to hand it back to him.

He tried to fold her fingers around it. "I… look, just… just take it. It's meant a lot to me, but so have- so has what you've done for me. Please, take it."

She shrank back a little from his insistance. His sudden intensity was overwhelming her. "You're… you're scaring me. I don't understand."

"Fine." He took it back, a little more roughly than she thought he meant to, and rolled out of bed. "You don't want the earring, you don't get the earring. Very simple." He began to dress himself with sharp movements. "…You are a very frustrating woman to deal with, you know that?"

She watched him, motionless from her nest of pillows and blankets. "I'm sorry," she said softly, her heart sinking down to the pit of her stomach for some reason, she knew not what.

He shook his head briefly and stormed from the room.

Her heart constricted, and she found it hard to breathe. What had just happened?

She slept very little that night, wandering her room restlessly with worry.

.

Elra came to her in the morning. "Can I help my lady prepare for the Landsmeet?"

Elizabeth was exhausted again, and would rather have slept for another six hours, having finally fallen asleep in spite of the birds beginning to twitter outside her window, but the Landsmeet wouldn't wait for a love-sick Warden. So she let Elra help her with a sponge bath – it was a special occasion, after all – and to dress her in a clean tunic and pants and finally her mismatched armour. "What happened to your old armour, Lady Elizabeth?"

"It got broken," she said distantly. "My father's sword and shield still survive, but I have an enchanted sword now."

"Very exciting, my lady," Elra said, fussing over the buckles on her drake-scale greaves. "Did something happen last night? …Something with your lover, perhaps?"

Elizabeth turned to look at her in alarm. "How did you know?"

Elra blushed. "You have the look of someone unhappy in love, but you didn't have that look yesterday, my lady. I… can't offer any advice, but maybe you would tell me about it?"

Elizabeth began to refuse, then hesitated. Why not? Elra was loyal to her and trusted her, she was sure. Why should she not trust Elra?

So, slowly, she told of Zevran and his mysterious, important earring.

Elra brightened up right away, even as she dabbed make-up on Elizabeth's face to hide the shadows under her eyes and brighten the colour in her cheeks. "Ah! Don't you see? He was trying to propose to you!"

"Surely not," Elizabeth said. "I am special to him, I think, but not that special. He is not one to bind himself to one person." She tried to explain about his past, but Elra was having none of it.

"My lady, has he shown any serious interest in any other woman since he met you? Or man – it sounds like he might have had something with this Taliesin man in the past. His very insistence and shyness prove it. He likes you more than he knows how to understand, and thought that you, with your more traditional, genteel background, would understand what he meant."

"Are you sure you are not projecting?" Elizabeth asked doubtfully. "It sounds more like a fairytale than… Zev. Zevran."

Elra nodded, an odd gleam in her eye. "I imagine he'll avoid you for a few days, but just be gentle with him when he comes back to you, my lady, and I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. It's not the end of your relationship, however you feel now."

Elizabeth shook her head doubtfully, and Elra sighed at her as she handed her helmet to her. "My lady, you've grown up so much since you left home, and yet… you are still a young girl in so many ways. Just wait and see."

.

True to Elra's word, she saw nothing of Zevran all morning, which did nothing to quell the gnawing weight in her stomach. When everything was ready, they set out for the the Royal Palace with Arl Eamon and Bann Teagan. Ser Cauthrien was guarding the door to the Great Hall with a large number of soldiers. She singled out Elizabeth immediately.

"I knew you would be here," she said. "I am not surprised that you eluded my lord's sentence. But you, Alistair, if you were truly worthy of being called Maric's son, you would already be in the Landsmeet, wouldn't you? You have both torn Ferelden apart to oppose the very man who ensured you were born into freedom. I'm afraid I cannot allow you to go further. The nobles of Ferelden will confirm my lord as Regent, and we can finally fight the darkspawn as a united kingdom." She reached for her two-handed sword.

"Ser Cauthrien, wait," Elizabeth said. "Even you said to me that Loghain has changed. Can you not see what sort of things he has been doing, with or without Howe? I don't wish to fight him but I do not think he is a good ruler. I have evidence of it. The truth must be known, for better or for ill."

Cauthrien hesitated, her conflict clear on her face. "I have had… so many doubts of late, it is true. Lord Loghain is a great man in a difficult place, but… despite what I said to you the other day, even I wonder if his hatred of Orlais is misplaced at this time." Her face began to wrinkle in unhappiness. "I know he has done some terrible things, but I owe him everything. I will not betray him; do not ask me to!"

"Then only let us pass," Elizabeth said. "Let us stop him. It is for the best."

"I never thought duty would taste so bitter," Cauthrien said, and stepped aside, bowing her head. "Stop him, Warden. Stop him from betraying everything he loves. And please… if you can… show mercy. Without him, there would be no Ferelden to defend."

"I will do what I can," Elizabeth said solemnly, and they passed by the knight to the great double doors, which the soldiers threw open for them. Elizabeth and Alistair passed through first, then Eamon and Teagan, and then the others, who went to the galleries to observe.

Loghain had begun early, and she found they were interrupting a speech he was making. "A fine speech, Bann Sighard. You have my sympathies for your son. But the crimes of Arl Howe are not mine, for I have been focused on the larger picture."

"My lords and ladies, our land has been threatened before. It has been invaded, and lost, and won times beyond counting. We Fereldens have proven time and again that we will never truly be defeated while we stand united. We must not let ourselves be divided now. Stand with me, and we shall defeat even the Blight itself."

Elizabeth felt herself moved, and finally learned first-hand why men looked up to Loghain as a leader and a general. His dark eyes glittered in his face, and his silver armour shone in the sunlight that streamed through the stained glass windows.

Then he noticed their entrance.

"If you do not stand with me, my nay-sayers would put a puppet on the throne and every soul here knows it. The next question is, who will pull the strings?" He gestured to the group who had just arrived. "Will it be his uncle, Eamon, Arl of Redcliffe, or will it be his dear friend, Warden Elizabeth Cousland? Tell us, Warden Elizabeth, how will the Orlesians take our nation from us? Will they deign to send their armies, or will they simply issue their commands through this would-be prince? What is the price of Ferelden loyalty these days?"

All eyes were on her. Elizabeth took one second, one breath, and let out all her fears and insecurities and worries – over Zevran, over the Blight, over her friend Alistair forced into a position he desperately wanted out of, over the insults Loghain had just hurled on her. This was not the time for that.

Her eyes opened, her chin came up. She had never actually addressed the Landsmeet before, but she knew what she was doing. This was time to put on a show.

She spread her hands as she walked forward. "My lords and ladies of the Landsmeet. I was once Elizabeth Cousland, younger child and daughter of Bryce Cousland, Teyrn of Highever. I am now only a humble Grey Warden and I beg your forbearance for daring to speak in these lofty halls. Teyrn Loghain has done a fine job in fighting the darkspawn, yet he still fears and hates the Orlesians more than these horrible monsters. Whether or not the Orlesians would come to save or conquer us, who among you would deny that the Blight is a far worse enemy, one that knows no honour at all, genuine or bought?"

"There are refugees enough in my bannorn to make that abundantly clear," cried a lady Bann, whom Elizabeth vaguely remembered as Alfstanna of Waking Sea.

"The South is fallen, Loghain!" shouted an older Arl, Gallagher Wulff of South Hills. "Will you risk civil war and let the darkspawn take the whole country for fear of Orlais? I lost my sons fighting the Blight. All of southern Ferelden is covered by black clouds, the ground rotting beneath your feet, plagues and darkspawn raids going on until even the crows get sick of the smell of carrion."

"The Blight is real, Wulff," Loghain said. "But we do not need Grey Wardens or a bastard prince to fight it. The Wardens claim that they alone can end this Blight, yet they failed spectacularly at Ostagar. Now they ask to bring twelve divisions of chevaliers as 'reinforcements'." He pointed at Elizabeth, who bit her tongue at the Ostagar comment and did not flinch. "Once we open our borders to chevaliers, can we really expect that they will simply return from whence they came?"

"I imagine you learned that information from Arl Howe, who tortured Warden Riordan and held him so long that Orlesian support is now moot." Elizabeth stared him dead in the eye. "If you know they have in readiness twelve divisions of chevaliers, you also know that Ferelden has less than a month to live unless _we_ act _now_."

The room burst into uproar. Loghain spread his arms for quiet, and he gained it after a few moments. "And you say that you are the only ones who can end this, of course."

Elizabeth wasn't about to tell him she hadn't the faintest idea of how Grey Wardens were any better at fighting Blights, darkspawn-sensing powers aside. "You have done much for Ferelden, and you can keep fighting for her freedom."

"He can?" Alistair asked skeptically beside her in a low voice.

She ignored him. "But your time as Regent is done. I have proof that you are not fit to rule." She held out the letter Zevran had found on the Tevinter mage. Alistair had wanted to carry it for her as usual, but he was overruled by Arl Eamon, because Alistair was a prince now. Besides, she could carry her own damn papers. "Lord Loghain has sold Ferelden citizens into slavery to fund his war. Shall we be slaves of the Orlesians or of the Tevinter Imperium? It seems that one is less heavy than the other to our noble Regent."

"There is no slavery in Ferelden," Bann Sighard exclaimed, and all eyes were now on Loghain's impassive face. "Arl Bryland, please do us the honours."

Arl Bryland took it from her and read it aloud. "It seems clear enough. Explain yourself, Loghain."

"There is no saving the Denerim alienage," Loghain said sternly. "Damage from the riots last fall has yet to be repaired. Sickness has taken root there, and there are bodies still rotting in homes. It is not a place I would send my worst enemy. There would be no chance of holding it if the Blight comes here." He raised his voice against the murmurs. "Despite what you may think, I have done my duty. Whatever my regrets may be for the elves, I have done what was needed for the good of Ferelden."

"You have done many terrible things, or allowed them to happen, which I question benefited Ferelden in any way," Elizabeth challenged him.

"And what terrible things would you lay at my name?"

"Assuming power on the death of King Cailan even though your daughter is queen. Poisoning Arl Eamon so that he lay in a deathly coma since Ostagar. Allowing Arl Howe not only to assume the title of Arl of Denerim on the death of Arl Kendalls as reward for murdering my family in cold blood, but to imprison and torture innocents for his own benefit. As his master, you are at least partly responsible!"

"These are all weak charges you bring. And what have you done with my daughter?" Loghain demanded. "You kidnapped her, your queen as you say, by force. Where have you taken her? How do you keep her? Does she even yet live?"

"I believe I can speak for myself," Anora announced from behind him, appearing in the door used by royalty to enter the hall. She had somehow traveled from Eamon's estate to the palace without Elizabeth seeing her all morning, and she was dressed in her royal gown, though with no crown on her golden-haired head. "Lords and ladies of Ferelden, hear me. My father is no longer the man you knew. This man is not the Hero of River Dane." Anora's voice was strong, but Elizabeth could hear a tightness in it, and she could see a terrible hurt in Loghain's eyes as he turned to look at his daughter.

"This man turned his troops aside and refused to protect your king as he fought bravely against the darkspawn. This man seized Cailan's throne before his body was cold and locked me away so I could not gainsay him. This man allowed Arl Howe to imprison me and I might be dead now if not for the Grey Wardens."

"So the Wardens' influence has poisoned you against me, Anora. I… had hoped to protect you from this." He turned away from her, and Elizabeth could see his resolve hardening before her eyes. "It seems that the Queen herself cannot be trusted with the freedom of our nation. I am the only one with the experience and the power to protect us now. Let us not descend into civil war but follow me to victory over the Blight!"

Both sides were losing rhetoric, Elizabeth realized. It would come to a vote soon…

"Then let us have a vote," Anora cried. "My lords and ladies, who do you stand with? Teyrn Loghain of Gwaren, or the Grey Wardens?"

There were cries of "South Reach stands with the Wardens!" and "Southern Bannorn stands with Loghain! We hold no hope of victory otherwise!"

When every arl and bann had given their vote, it was clear – Elizabeth and Alistair held a majority.

"You've lost, Loghain!" Arl Eamon said. "Step down gracefully."

"You are all traitors," Loghain growled. "How many of you stood against the Orlesian Emperor when his troops flattened your fields and raped your wives? You fought with us once, Eamon. You cared about this land once, before you got too old and fat and content to even see what you risk. And you, Bryland, to you I could say the same! None of you have shed blood for Ferelden like I have! How dare you judge me!"

"I may know nothing about the Orlesian occupation beyond what my father told me," Elizabeth cried, "but I have given plenty of blood to fight the darkspawn! I do not judge you for your bravery – I judge you for your cold heart!"

"Then let it be decided in a duel," Bann Alfstanna suggested. "Honourably, in the traditional way."

Elizabeth froze for a moment. Loghain was bigger than her, stronger than her, far more experienced than her. But she was no coward and she wasn't backing down from him now. "I accept."

"As do I," Loghain said. "I suppose it was bound to come to this… You are very much like your father."

"Thank you, ser."

"A man is known by the quality of his enemies. Maric told me that once." The corner of his mouth might have twitched wryly. "I wonder if it's more a compliment to you or to me." He turned to Alfstanna. "What terms for the duel does the Landsmeet decree?"

"It shall be fought according to tradition: a test of arms in single combat until one party yields. And we who are assembled will abide by the outcome."

Loghain turned to her and nodded once. "It is you or me the men will follow. It is only right that we fight for it. Prepare yourself!"

The nobles around them stepped back quickly, giving the two warriors space to manoeuvre. Elizabeth still felt it was a very small space, worried she might hit someone. Loghain began to circle her, watching her warily without drawing his two-handed sword. She stepped back, watching him just as warily, but she readied her shield, still blackened from fighting the mage.

She was almost caught unprepared as Loghain unsheathed his sword and brought it down on her shield in one smooth swing. Her arm was jarred and she took a step back to mitigate the weight of the blow, drawing her sword with her other hand without counterattacking. Loghain's armour was thick. If she was going to force him to surrender, she would have to disarm him – and then beat him down with attrition, because surely he wouldn't surrender simply on being disarmed. Maybe she would use her tactic of hitting him in the face with her shield… but she doubted that would work. It might work on Howe, but Loghain was a far better warrior and would definitely expect that from her.

He let her retreat and circle a little. She had to use her lightness and youth to her advantage. He was fast, but she could be quicker, if she knew how, and she was more resilient. But he was waiting for her when she darted in, and flung her back.

She narrowed her eyes. She couldn't telegraph her moves like that. She had to stop fighting like a trainee. After all the fighting she had done in the last months, she was better than that.

She was just nervous because she hadn't fought a serious duel before… and against Loghain Mac Tyr of all people.

She yelled to distract him – and give her fortitude – and charged. Slipping under his counter swing, she crashed into his side and forced him back a few paces – not quite overbalancing him. He recovered quickly, bringing his two-hander back around into a guard position, but she was dancing now, stepping more quickly around him trying to force him back, her sword flickering here and there, slashing and lunging. He didn't bother blocking every attack she made, and when he made a counterattack she attempted to dodge it rather than block it. Violet-blue lightning sparked along her sword, but it didn't seem to affect him. Enchanted armour, no doubt. She was all right with that. Frying her opponent was not the sort of victory she had in mind.

Loghain lunged with a yell and for once she couldn't dodge, only endure a sudden rain of blows on both shield and sword. She jumped back as he swung at her feet and counter-slashed, trying to knock his sword from his hands, but instead she was forced to one side.

Could she keep this up? Loghain was as old as her father, but he had kept in better shape and he had certainly been fighting as hard as she had in the last months. His endurance was hardened and wouldn't be worn down quickly by her youthful stamina; in fact, the opposite might happen.

They separated again, both beginning to breath hard, and watched for what the other might do next. Elizabeth adjusted her grip, and he responded to her new stance. She darted in again, and failed to dodge or block his counterattack; she caught the slash on her side with a yelp and staggered away, on the defensive, as all the observers gasped and the ones closest to her backed away some more. She quickly glanced down at her side, which was bruised and stinging, but the ironbark had held.

She lunged back into the fray with another shout, forcing him to retreat a pace. She needed to win this. He would probably kill her if she lost. And then Alistair, and then Ferelden would be lost. And Zev-

She gritted her teeth and swung again and again, and to her surprise she began to connect – with his shoulder, with his leg, and even as he lashed out she deflected his blow to the floor and got right into his space, forcing him back with all she had. His two-hander would not help him in such close quarters, and even as he stepped back to regain his reach as he had before, she tapped him on the leg and he fell to one knee with a grunt. Before he could recover or attempt to sweep her feet, she stepped back just far enough to bring her sword to his throat.

"I underestimated you, Elizabeth," Loghain grunted, dropping his sword and raising his hands. She withdrew her blade courteously. "I thought you were like Cailan, a child wanting to play at war. I was wrong. There is a strength in you that I have not seen since Maric died. I yield."

"Maybe before my journey I might have been like King Cailan," she said, giving him a hand to his feet. "But I learned much in the last six months. I accept your surrender."

"I did not just hear you say that," Alistair said. "You're going to let him live? After everything he's done? Just kill him already!"

She shot him a sharp glance and bit back an angry comment about his bloodthirstiness. "I know he must pay for his crimes," Anora had said, when she had met with her in private at Eamon's estate, "but if he could be allowed to live… He is my father, after all…"

"Wait," said another voice, and the Orlesian Warden, Riordan, stepped out of the crowd. "There is another option. The Teyrn is a warrior and a general of renown. Let him be of use to you. Put him through the Joining."

"That would be acceptable," Anora said, jumping at it. "I have heard it is dangerous. If he survives, you gain a general. If… if he does not, you have your revenge. Doesn't that satisfy you?"

"Absolutely not! Let Loghain become a Grey Warden?" Alistair said, shocked. "That's not right. Becoming a Warden is an honour, not a punishment! He abandoned our brothers and blamed us for the death of our king! He hunted us down like animals. He let Howe torture you, Riordan. How can we simply forget that?"

The Great Hall was silent, the banns and arls watching, waiting.

"There are too few of us," Riordan said simply. "It's not a matter of what we like. It's a matter of what we must do. Our duty is to slay the archdemon. No one else can. We aren't judges. Kinslayers, bloodmages, traitors, rebels, carta thugs, common bandits: anyone with the skill and the mettle to take up arms against the darkspawn is welcome among us. There are only three of us in all Ferelden, and there are… compelling reasons to have as many Wardens on hand as possible to deal with the archdemon."

"No," Alistair said. "I won't allow it. We need him like we need getting stabbed in the back! Or did you forget how his being a great general didn't help us one whit last time? I didn't want to be king. I still don't. But if that's what it takes to make Loghain see justice, I'll take the crown!"

"Is it justice you want, or revenge?" Riordan asked gravely.

"Shut up! I can't do it. Ask me for a pound of flesh, or all the gold in Orlais, but don't expect me to accept that- that monster as a brother." He turned to Elizabeth. "You aren't seriously considering this, are you?"

Oh. She had forgotten. Alistair still looked to her to lead.

When she stayed silent, his jaw clenched and he looked like he was on the verge of tears. "How can you do this to me? I thought we were friends! Well, if… if you make him a Warden, I'm- I'm leaving!" He turned and began to march back down the Great Hall.

"W-wait," Elizabeth stammered. He was serious, wasn't he? "Wait. Alistair." She needed his support, his friendship, to finish the battle against the Blight, and if he abandoned her too, it would break her. "I-I'll… I won't make him Warden."

"What? No! You can't execute him!" Anora cried, her blue eyes growing wide. "My father may have been wrong, but he is still a hero to the people!"

To everyone's surprise, Loghain smiled. "Anora, hush. It's over."

"Stop treating me like a child," Anora protested, distraught. "This is serious."

"Daughters never grow up, Anora," Loghain said quietly. "They remain six years old with pigtails and skinned knees forever."

"Father-" Anora turned away, burying her face in her hands.

Loghain turned to Elizabeth and knelt. "Just make it quick, Elizabeth. I can face the Maker knowing that Ferelden is in your hands."

Elizabeth swallowed, feeling the weight of Starfang in her hand. Could she… could she kill? Not even in battle, but in execution…?

"Let me do it," Alistair said. "Stop hesitating."

"No," Elizabeth said, much too loudly, and Alistair nearly stumbled backwards from her vehemence. Loghain was owed that much – to be killed by someone who respected him. "I'm sorry," she said softly, and raised her sword.

.

Spattered in blood, almost in more shock than Anora, Elizabeth stumbled away to stand in a back corner. She heard nothing of the Landsmeet, her own breathing and heartbeat drowning out the heated discussions behind her. She was trying valiantly not to cry, but her eyes were blurred anyway. What had she done?

At least Alistair hadn't done it.

She felt a touch on her shoulder a few minutes later, and turned to see Teagan, his face concerned. "I'm afraid we need your help once more."

"What? Why?"

"The vote between Anora and Alistair is exactly even. Everyone who can give a vote has given it, and you will be the tie-breaker."

Elizabeth returned with him. Anora and Alistair turned to face her, Anora's eyes bright with mixed emotions – with betrayal not least among them. Alistair was looking anxious, shooting little glances at Arl Eamon's stern face.

Elizabeth did not look at Eamon. She didn't look at anyone except Anora and Alistair. They were the ones who would have to live with her decision. And she already knew what that was.

"Anora will be queen," she said, and both candidates breathed a sigh of relief. She turned away again before she could see Eamon's disappointed face, and she barely heard Anora's elegant thanks.

Many people would criticize her decisions this day. She would be first among them.

.

She wanted to leave the palace and retreat to her own room as soon as possible, but she was not permitted. Anora had sent for her, briefly, in between appointing councilors and reviewing military reports.

"So it's done," Anora said. "My father is dead. I… never thought he would go so far. I never thought it would end like it did. …Seems like such a waste," she ended bitterly.

"I…" …wish it could have gone differently, Elizabeth wanted to say. But the fact was she had bowed to Alistair's demands and she was in no place to speak of wishes when she had had the power to make it go differently. "I know."

"He accepted his fate well," Anora said, and shook herself. "I will be coming with Arl Eamon to oversee the armies I am told are gathering at Redcliffe. …You have united Ferelden, Elizabeth Cousland. Now it is time to face the Blight. You have gathered the army we will be using. You will be its general."

Elizabeth was too numb to show her surprise, though she twitched a little. "Me, Your Majesty?"

"You are the only one who has met each individual leader. It will be up to you to keep them in line. You have your own councilors. I suggest you use them."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Elizabeth said obediently.

.

She should have spent time with Alistair, and probably Sten and Oghren and Wynne as well, planning what she should have done next, making strategies for how to deal with this army. But she did not; whether she could not, or just didn't want to, she wasn't sure. But she was desperate to get time to herself to process everything that had happened, let it shatter her, and build herself back up again into the leader they needed.

Arl Eamon cornered her just outside her door. "Well, the Theirin line is ended, after four hundred years. I hope you are proud of yourself."

She couldn't break down. Not here, not yet. She couldn't lash out in all her pain and regret and confusion, not at this man who was still her ally and leader of half of Ferelden's remaining army. She swallowed everything and raised her chin. "I am not. But it is done."

"Anora is a capable administrator, but her father's legacy-"

"My loyalty is to Alistair, and believe me, I am questioning that right now too," she said angrily, backing into her room.

"If your loyalty was truly to Alistair, you would have given him your vote! He is not a child anymore."

"No, he is not," she said quietly. "But he is free, at least a little." She closed the door before Eamon could say any more, and leaned against it, wondering how her life had gone so wrong.

Alistair knocked on the door to her room half an hour later and entered without waiting for an answer. He was beaming, almost skipping and singing. "You did it! You really did it! I'm so happy, and all thanks to you."

"Good," she said thickly, looking up from where she slumped at her desk. "Now get out."

"What? But why? What's wrong?" His eyes narrowed. "You're not still regretting Loghain, are you? He was scum for what he did, no matter who he was before."

"Get out!" she screamed at him, springing to her feet, her tears finally breaking through. "Everything I did today, I did for you. You have everything you ever wanted, and you don't even have the grace to acknowledge I might be conflicted about executing the Hero of River Dane!?"

"He killed Duncan, or good as killed him! I thought you would understand! You got to kill Howe!"

"That is different! Howe was only out for himself. Loghain did terrible things but he believed he was working towards Ferelden, whatever else! And now I have slain _Anora's_ father right in front of her! I _should_ have made you king so you could feel what I'm feeling now! You are happy, gleeful, at this horrible turn of events; you questioned my friendship, _used_ my friendship when I hesitated over the most difficult decision of my life; what kind of monster are you?"

Alistair flinched and drew back, his face hardening. "I-if that's the way you feel, I won't trouble you any more." He left, shutting the door a little harder than was necessary, and she flung herself on the bed, all her emotions finally flooding out in a storm of sobs.

She didn't have to be so angry at Alistair. He was inappropriately happy at the death of a man who was neither wholly good, nor wholly evil, yes, but he didn't have to shoulder the burden of a whole country, either, and if she was in his situation, she might be a little blinded to the sacrifices of others as well. And she had driven him away, turned him against her. She felt awful.

And she couldn't even turn to Zevran for comfort. She had thought she caught a glimpse of him in the gallery of the Great Hall, but she had not seen him otherwise.

She tried, however futilely, to sleep, clutching her silver amulet. They would march to Redcliffe early in the morning to await the army she had gathered.

.

Author's note: Army Attack from SnK was used for the mad dash to the docks. :)


	13. The Archdemon

The Archdemon

.

Even though she rose early, Arl Eamon was up before her. He greeted her coolly as she ate breakfast; he was consulting maps and reports at the dining table.

"What are the darkspawn doing?" she asked.

Eamon sighed. "They have besieged most of the castles left standing in the Bannorn, but a large portion of the horde appears to be heading westwards in a major offensive. It is good we are leaving for Redcliffe today, or else we might not have been able to make it before our enemies reach it and besiege it. Will your company be ready?"

"Yes, ser," she said. "Any word from our allies?"

"The Circle Tower mages have already arrived, naturally. A few units of dwarf warriors have arrived already, but the main bulk of their forces – and the elves, too, no doubt – are still several days away. Hopefully we all arrive at the same time, and before the darkspawn arrive. Queen Anora is taking half the garrison of Fort Drakon, I believe, so we should have enough to force our way to Redcliffe if the road becomes rough."

She finished her meal and rose. "My people will be ready."

.

Elra helped her finish getting dressed. "Be safe, my lady. I hear you are going to be besieged in Redcliffe."

"You are staying here?"

"I don't want to travel all that way." Elra shivered. "All that mud, and so much danger – it's not for me. I am not brave like you, my lady."

"I… you think I am brave?"

"Oh, yes, my lady. You know how to fight, and you go out and fight. I couldn't bear even to see a darkspawn, let alone try to kill one. But Gemmet and Firiel and I will be here when you return."

"Thank you, Elra. I am looking forward to it."

With that awkward farewell, they set out on the march. Queen Anora led, dressed now in full armour, full of energy and determination, and Elizabeth was made to march beside her as the appointed general of the allied army. Elizabeth didn't mind. She needed to learn how to command an army, and she needed to learn _now_. The march gave her four days to listen to the older nobles and more experienced military leaders, and she did, a silent, stoic hanger-on. Teagan marched with her companionably, giving her as much advice as he could, though he did a lot of listening of his own as well.

She saw Zevran on the second day, and tried to call to him, but he disappeared among the Denerim soldiers before she could catch up to him.

When they reached Redcliffe, they found a camp on the cliff facing the castle. It seemed every Dalish elf in Ferelden had come, at least, and there were several hundred dwarves, though not as many as she had hoped. In the courtyard of the castle, the Circle mages and their templars were encamped. Waiting in the main hall with Arlessa Isolde were Keeper Lanaya, First Enchanter Irving, and Templar Knight-Commander Gregoire. Lanaya greeted Elizabeth warmly, and Elizabeth managed to smile at her – for the first time in days, it felt like. But she was glad to see her – glad to see all of them. She had wondered if they would really come, and especially since Arl Eamon had sent the summons on her behalf.

They had not been in the castle for more than a couple hours when a scout came with a warning; darkspawn had been seen massing to the east. Immediately, Eamon sent Teagan to bring the villagers to the castle's shelter, and the elves and dwarves packed their camp and also withdrew to the castle to man the walls. The gate was shut, and the defenders made ready. The courtyard was cleared as much as possible, the villagers sent down to the cellars, and while the dwarves crowded the courtyard with their axes and maces and swords, the elf archers and Circle mages took the walls. Redcliffe soldiers were at their places in the towers, and the templars were with them. There wasn't even room for all the soldiers to fight at once. "That may change soon enough," Teagan assured her grimly.

The sky grew dark as the darkspawn approached; the sun was setting, but smoke from distant fires was spreading across the sky, blotting out the colours of the sunset. As night fell, they could see fires springing up on the cliff opposite the castle, where the camp had been. Companies of hurlocks and genlocks swarmed towards the castle, and some of them broke away to torch the village. But as the darkspawn charged across the bridge to the gate, the defenders let loose their first salvo of magic and arrows, so fierce that the ancient stone bridge quivered with their violence. The mages were a little more careful after that, but the darkspawn would find it difficult to even reach the gate.

Elizabeth was capable of shooting, but it was not her strength, so she remained farther back, observing. With some relief, she saw that the windmill was on fire, so the darkspawn were unlikely to discover the secret passage into the castle.

The darkspawn drew back after a while; even as mindless beasts, they knew they needed another strategy to take the castle. "I don't think Redcliffe has ever been so well defended," Teagan commented, laughing. "What a difference a mage makes, let alone fifty!"

"As long as we have lyrium," Gregoire told him. "I hope we brought enough to weather this assault and then bring the attack to the archdemon."

"Speaking of which, where is the archdemon?" Anora asked. "Should it not be leading its horde?"

"The archdemon is not here," Riordan said. "Where it is… I do not know. It is not close enough, but I do not know if that means it is far away… or only biding its time until we think we have won. But this does not seem like the main part of the horde after all. I wonder what it means."

The darkspawn retaliated by bringing in a dozen ogres, armed with boulders to try to throw at the walls. The mages' attack had left a definite char-line on the bridge to the castle, and the ogres hurled their boulders at the gate while standing beyond the burn marks. One boulder clipped the wall, taking out two mages, three elves, and then five dwarves in the courtyard as it landed. But while they were out of range of the mages, they were not out of range of the elves and their arrows. Whether through skill or lucky shots, three ogres fell and only a few rocks had struck the gate.

At the moment that the ogres turned by the order of the genlock general who appeared to be commanding the attack, there was a rough horn call from over the hill. Oghren looked up. "Sounds like the rest of Harrowmont's boys finally showed up."

"How many will there be?" Anora asked. "Are they in great danger?"

"He leads eight hundred of our finest," the dwarf captain told her. "Not an immense amount of danger."

"Still, we should sortie," Arl Bryland said. "There are not so many darkspawn that we cannot crush them between us. Unless the archdemon shows up?" He looked at Riordan.

"Not that I can tell," Riordan said. "I would favour a sortie."

"You'll want to put us in first," the dwarf captain said, looking pleased at the idea of a sortie. "Those mages can do a lot of damage, but they're far too squishy to be put on the front lines."

"I suppose I should be in the very front, then," Shale said dryly. "All of you are far too fragile, compared to me."

"So shall it be," Teagan cried. "Lady Shale shall lead the charge with the dwarves, and you and I, Elizabeth, will follow with the mages and the other soldiers."

"Don't call me a lady," Shale growled, and Teagan looked taken aback.

Elizabeth drew her sword. "I am ready."

The darkspawn were startled by the sound of answering horns from Redcliffe, and Harrowmont responded until the cliffs rang with the echoes of echoes. The gate rattled up – only partway, as it was bent now, but it was enough – and the defenders charged out.

Elizabeth had wondered if she could still fight properly after the emotional stress she had been through in the last week, and found that the answer was: absolutely. She had no fear anymore as she ran directly to attack an ogre, aided by roots called up by an elf mage somewhere behind her. The darkspawn squealed as they found themselves assaulted on two sides, and Elizabeth could now hear deep dwarven warcries from ahead of her. Her ogre fell, clawing at its bloody throat and twitching from the lightning of her sword, and she sprang ahead, crashing into a line of hurlocks with all the fury she could muster.

Soon enough she was met by new dwarves, and caught sight of Harrowmont's golden helm shining in the light of the fires. "King Harrowmont! Well met!"

Harrowmont turned and came towards her, and shook her hand as they met. "Well met indeed, Warden Elizabeth. It seems we are just in time to save you."

"We are all very grateful for your arrival, although Warden Riordan does not believe this is the whole horde."

"Let us finish the battle before we speak of such things," Harrowmont said, and charged off with his mace.

The remainder of the battle did not take long after the ogres were brought down. Even as they swept the charred battlefield for surviving darkspawn, the sound of horse-hooves echoed from the cliffs and a rider pulled up. His horse was covered in sweat and lather, bloody lather around its hindquarters – it had been deeply scratched by something.

The rider looked around in horror. "Do not say the darkspawn have taken Redcliffe!"

"Of course they haven't taken Redcliffe," Teagan said. "Don't be silly. What news do you bring, riding so hard?"

"The horde is approaching Denerim!" the rider exclaimed, getting helped down from his exhausted horse. "The Banns are fading before it, retreating to the city. With half the Fort Drakon garrison here, Denerim is helpless!"

"So it was a feint all along!" Teagan cried. "Quickly, man, let's get you to see Queen Anora. We need a war council at once!"

"King Harrowmont," Elizabeth said. "You have arrived in the nick of time in more ways than one. Will you join us?"

"Just lead the way," Harrowmont told her.

.

There wasn't room inside Redcliffe Castle for the entire army to camp, so the elves and dwarves left the safety of the massive stone walls and began clearing a space on the hilltop again, burning the bodies of the darkspawn. It must not have been comfortable, and Elizabeth was privately, selfishly glad that she was granted her own room at Redcliffe next to Queen Anora.

The war council was held in Eamon's office, slightly isolated from the bustle of the rest of the castle, and everyone who commanded was there. It was rather packed, but it reminded her of a battle briefing a long time ago given by King Cailan.

"So in short," Anora summarized, "the darkspawn's assault here was only a feint with a small portion of their army, and the remainder is headed towards Denerim and has probably arrived by now. And most of all, the archdemon was sighted with them."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said the messenger. "I was sent as soon as the scouts reported their findings. And a few people tried shooting ballistas at the archdemon, but the dragon just wrecked the ballistas."

Anora looked around at the assembled leaders. "What would your advice be? My first instinct would be to rush back and protect – or retake – Denerim; however, I realize that might be a foolish idea. King Harrowmont?"

"My people have little experience in fighting the darkspawn on open plains, as you might expect," Harrowmont said. "But fighting in cities is difficult. There are many places for the monsters to hide and ambush from. I'm not quite sure how you build your cities up here, but to me it would seem advisable to find a suitable fortification to defend from and bait the darkspawn into assaulting it. As for dealing with the archdemon… I don't know. That is not something my people have experience with."

"No one here does," Lanaya said. "Even my late mentor, who lived far beyond even the lifespan of my people, was not that old. I would personally not recommend attacking the city, either, unless the darkspawn have not yet breached it. If they could be lured or forced to the deep woods, it would be easy for my people to take them, but they avoid it carefully. Still, I would rather face them on an open battlefield. There are hilly plains in front of the city, are there not?"

"There would be no cover from the archdemon in the fields," Gregoire said. "Elizabeth has amassed an army great enough to replace the one sacrificed at Ostagar, but we will still be vastly outnumbered if the greater part of the horde is there. Add to that an unusually powerful dragon, and we wouldn't stand a chance. While I do not like suggesting fighting in the city, endangering what civilians remain there, I think we would have a better chance there."

"A well-placed blast of fire could take out all my fellow mages at once," Irving said, nodding. "I am, for once, with Gregoire." Gregoire snorted.

"What do you think, Elizabeth?" Riordan asked her, and she jumped.

"Me, ser? But you are senior Warden."

"I entered this story late, and it is no longer mine to tell, though I aim to assist to the best of my ability," Riordan said. "But should you survive the final battle, you will undoubtedly become Commander of the Grey in Ferelden."

She stared at him.

"And so, what do you think?"

"I think," she said slowly, aware that everyone was watching her, "that we must defend Denerim. If Denerim falls, every Fereldan will lose heart. If Denerim falls, thousands more people will die than have already died in the Bannorn. Whether we fight on the plain or in the city, I think we must go to Denerim."

"Well said," Teagan said softly, giving her an encouraging smile.

"I have heard all of you," Anora said, steepling her fingers. "We will go to Denerim as quickly as we can on the morrow and attempt to save it. Get as much rest as you can tonight, for we will march hard at dawn."

.

.

Riordan called to Alistair and her to follow him as they left the council. She obediently followed the older Warden to his room, where he checked the hallway suspiciously and then shut and locked the door.

"W-what's the matter?" Alistair asked, looking around anxiously. "Ooh, are you going to tell us Warden secrets?"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking," Riordan said. "I will go straight to the point. Do either of you know, or have you guessed, why it is that Grey Wardens are the only ones who can defeat a Blight?"

Alistair looked at her for help, and she looked at the floor. "Because… we can sense where the darkspawn are?" he asked.

"It is true that we can do that, but it is not our main function," Riordan said. "What do you know of the archdemon?"

"It's a gigantic ugly dragon," Alistair said. "It's one of the old Tevinter gods, awoken and corrupted by the darkspawn. Um, it controls them through telepathy, which is why we get nightmares?"

"Something like that," Riordan said. "The fact of the matter is, anyone can kill an archdemon. It is no different from any other living creature in that respect. However. If anyone other than a Grey Warden kills it, its soul will simply possess the nearest darkspawn and continue living. You would have to kill every darkspawn in existence to defeat the archdemon that way."

"And that would be a huge pain," Alistair said. "So if _we_ kill it… we kill its soul because…"

"Its soul will be drawn to the body of the Grey Warden who kills it, which bears the taint of the darkspawn but is has its own soul, unlike the darkspawn. And both souls are destroyed in that conflict."

Alistair swallowed. "So… one of us is going to die in this fight."

"That is correct. As the senior Warden, it is my duty to make the first attempt. However, should I perish without succeeding, then you two must take up this duty."

Elizabeth stared at him, horrified. "Loghain was right. I have wasted all my time, running about, gathering allies to no purpose." No wonder Riordan had said "should you survive" earlier.

"That is not true," Riordan told her. "What good is it if we are killed before we even reach the archdemon? Our allies will keep the darkspawn armies occupied while we few attempt our task."

"But I gained the trust of all these people – I never promised them victory, but they all expect it – and now they will follow me into the jaws of doom and if I fail, I die and then they all die, and if I succeed, then I still die-"

"I know," Riordan said. "It doesn't seem fair. It has happened the last four Blights, and every Warden who was consumed had things to live for as well. But one life for the freedom of everyone… that is not so great a price to pay, is it? "

"…No," she agreed in a whisper. The Grey Wardens had taken everything from her that Howe had not; why not her life as well?

"But if all goes well, then I will take this burden for you." Riorden went to unlock the door. "I imagine you have much to think about. Nothing you have done has prepared you for what you face now. Please try to sleep well."

.

Elizabeth went straight back to her room at a brisk trot, leaving Alistair far behind. What was she going to do?

The answer, it seemed, was to speak to Morrigan, because the witch was waiting for her, leaning on her fireplace and watching the flames dance. She turned when she heard Elizabeth enter. "Has Riordan told you what you need to know?"

Elizabeth stopped cold. "You know. You knew. You always knew!"

"Elizabeth-"

"You knew all these months what I would have to face and never told me!? I might have become reconciled to it by now if- if only-! Are you going to abandon me too?"

"Listen to me!" Morrigan snapped, and Elizabeth stopped in her tirade and focused on her. It was hard to tell, but Morrigan looked… worried? And regretful? "It was… manipulative of me, but that was my whole purpose for being with you. That was the reason Flemeth sent me. If I had told you any of it before, would you have believed me?"

"You didn't even try to trust me, then," Elizabeth muttered.

Morrigan looked like she wanted to shake her. "I told you that. I like you, but I trust no one. The world is harsh and cruel and letting oneself… care… only makes it more cruel. Now, if you are done with your tantrum…?"

"Why are you here?" Elizabeth asked, sitting on the edge of her bed wearily. "Why do you need to know that I know what Riordan knows?"

"I have come to offer you a way out," Morrigan said slowly. "There is a way to slay the archdemon… and not lose any Grey Wardens."

"And what is that?"

"I know a ritual that will bind the soul of the archdemon to an unborn child, both ending the Blight and preserving the soul of the Warden who kills its draconic body. However, this ritual requires… an unborn child fathered by a Warden. This means you have to convince Alistair to have sex with me." Morrigan spoke slightly too quickly, almost as if she was… nervous?

"I have to convince Alistair?" Elizabeth asked. "I'm sure you've noticed we're not talking these days."

"You're not talking to anyone, these days," Morrigan said. "Besides your silly dog, Leliana's the only one who can have a normal conversation with you, it seems, though Alistair and the elf in particular make every effort to avoid you and you avoid them. You think no one noticed?"

"I'm sure everyone noticed," Elizabeth muttered.

"But yes. If I go to him, do you think he will even bother to listen to me?"

"He might," Elizabeth said. "You don't seem to hate each other as much as when you first met."

Morrigan turned away quickly. "Perhaps. But he still trusts you far more than me. I know, I know, it's manipulative, but… the choice is yours."

Elizabeth thought about that for a while, trying not to feel that painful, illusionary thread of hope. "What happens to you, with this child?"

"I will take the child, and raise him – or her – far away from here. It will not even know it was once Urthemiel the archdemon. What Flemeth's original purpose was, I do not know, and I tell you the truth, if you care to believe me. You will never see me again, never have to worry about me again."

"I will never have to fight you for doing something I disagree with?" Elizabeth asked.

"I don't know," Morrigan said. "I would prefer not to. Like I said, I like you. It would be a pity to have to kill one of the few people who once trusted me for some reason."

It sounded like she was making a joke, but Elizabeth didn't smile. "…I will speak to Alistair."

.

Alistair had not lit the fire in his room, and only one candle – it was quite dark inside when Elizabeth knocked on the door. "Yes?"

"I… need to talk to you. In private."

He let her in and shut the door; even in the dim light, he looked concerned. "Is it about our impending demise?"

"N- Yes. I think."

He pulled out a chair for her and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Go on." It seemed he had forgotten everything that had blown up between them at the Landsmeet; the only expression on his face was worry – for her.

"Morrigan says there is a way for us to kill the archdemon without dying," she said, staring at her hands clasped on the table. "But… to do that… you have to have sex with her."

He snorted. "Good one."

"N-no, that's what she said to me."

His brief smile faded, and he got up to walk around restlessly. He blew a sigh. "You're serious. …Just what I always wanted, sex with a witch. I suppose Oghren wouldn't be able to make fun of me anymore…"

"I'm sorry," she said wretchedly. "I know this is… this is all on you, and I don't mean it to be… You don't have to, just… I… You know I never really was happy with being a Grey Warden, giving up so much, and now… I know I could have died many times on this journey, but to know there is no possibility other than death… and I'm only nineteen, and… a-and… Zevran…" She still hadn't reconciled with Zevran yet. She would have to do it tonight and the thought chilled her stomach even as she began to cry.

"H-hey, it's- it's okay," Alistair said, reaching out awkwardly to pat her shoulder. "I'll do it."

"Y-you don't have to, it's foolish, I shouldn't be… pressuring you…"

"You're not," he said, maybe a little bit quickly. "But you're right. I know Riordan said he'd go first, and he's awesome, but… if it comes down to us…" He coughed awkwardly. "So… uh… where's Morrigan?"

"She was waiting in my room."

"Are there any… side effects I should know about, besides the possibility of fatherhood?"

"You will be a father," she said quietly, trying to dry her tears. "She plans to capture the archdemon's soul in the baby, in a baby fathered by a Warden."

"And I don't suppose Riordan would be too keen on being seduced by her," Alistair said, and sighed again. "It won't lead to anything ending the world, right?"

"I hope not," she said. "I don't know. I'm just… scared."

"Well, if we do it and Riordan finds out… well, it'll be too late then. We'll just endure whatever we get." He gave her a shaky, but reassuring smile. "Let's do it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"You don't mind?"

"I like living as much as the next person," he said. "Honestly, if our positions were reversed, I'd have begged you on my knees to save me."

"Er."

He chuckled awkwardly. "Um. Right. So… uh, also, I'm sorry about… well, you know, the whole Landsmeet thing. I was…"

"It's all right," she said quickly. "I was being selfish again."

He nodded several times, processing that. "Well… I was a huge ass, as you rightly pointed out. You're under a lot of pressure and I wasn't helping. I really am grateful for what you did for me, I really am. I'll help better from now on. Starting with this… thing. Let's, ah, go."

.

Morrigan was waiting for them again, and she seemed both relieved and more nervous by Alistair's presence. "So you agree, then."

"Yes," Alistair said, though there was a squeak in the middle of his word. "Um. Yes."

"And you are both resigned to not worrying about the consequences, yes?"

"Yes, but…" Elizabeth hesitated. "Morrigan… what am I going to tell Zevran?"

"Tell me what?" said a soft Antivan voice, and she froze before turning. He was standing in the doorway, staring at her seriously, and she swallowed.

"Let us go somewhere private, then," Morrigan said. "You can deal with this, Elizabeth. And Alistair… I think this will not be as unpleasant as you might believe."

"If you say so," he grumbled, but when she took his hand to lead him out of Elizabeth's room, he didn't protest.

Zevran stood back to let Morrigan and Alistair pass, and then closed the door behind him and walked to Elizabeth. "What's going on?"

She had to focus on breathing for a moment to prevent herself from breaking down again, and kept her gaze steady on him as much as she could. "Can you guess why it is that only Grey Wardens can defeat the Blight?"

He frowned, looking a little confused. "You… are… magic?"

"Er… no. But we are the only ones who can permanently kill the archdemon. If anyone else kills it, its soul will just enter another darkspawn and the Blight will continue. As I understand it." She paused. "And then… the Warden who kills it… dies."

His eyes widened. "You can't die."

"I… may have done a terrible thing," she said. "Morrigan offered me a deal that I might live if I am the one to kill the archdemon."

"Please tell me you took it." He grasped her hands, staring into her eyes.

"I did," she said quietly. "But I don't know what will happen. What that means. Whether I have made a huge mistake. I'm not doing what the Wardens have done for the last four Blights, I'm doing what Flemeth wants me to do, and I distrust her more than ever. I… mostly… trust Morrigan, but she won't tell me what she is going to do afterwards. I don't think even she knows. And you can't tell anyone about any of this."

"Not a word," he said solemnly. "I understand. Warden secrets. And your secrets. But… you will live?"

"If I strike down the archdemon, and Morrigan's ritual works, I will live." She shrugged. "If I fall to something else… Well, I've faced that danger for months now." She glanced at him. "You're… not angry?"

"Why should I be angry? You are facing death more clearly than anything I have done in my life, and you are rightly afraid."

"Are… are you still angry at me for… the last time we spoke…?"

He heaved a sigh, looking away from her. "Are you certain you wish to talk about it? Not because I am angry – I am not – but… I really do not know what to say."

She mustered up her courage. "Do… do you doubt how I feel about you?" If it had been a proposal, she must have seemed like she didn't love him enough.

"I- no, this… I am acting like a child, I realize." He turned away, put a hand to his head, turned back restlessly. "I apologize. Let me try to explain." His words came slowly. "An assassin… must learn to forget about sentiment. It is dangerous. You take your pleasures where you can, when life is good. To expect anything more would be reckless. I had thought… in the beginning… it was the same between us. A pleasant diversion to enjoy, and little more. And yet…"

"And yet… you…" She swallowed. "Do you love me?"

He looked at her helplessly. "I… don't know. How would you know such a thing? I grew up amongst those who sold the illusion of love, and then I was trained to make my heart cold in favour of the kill. Everything I have been taught says that what I feel is wrong." He clenched his hands, then opened them and looked at them. "Yet… I cannot help it. Ever since you… gave yourself to me, that first time in the forest, I have been nothing but confused. Do you understand me at all?"

"I am no wiser than you about love," she said quietly. "I… I think I love you, but I do not know what it feels like, what it looks like."

He took her hand. "All I want to know is… if there might be some future for us, some possibility of… I do not know what."

She shook her head. "I don't know. If I survive, yes, definitely. I want that too."

"I… still have the earring. I would like to give it to you… as a token of affection. Will you take it?"

She nodded, a tear spilling from the corner of her eye, and his lips crashed against hers.

"Then I am yours," he murmured against her mouth, kissing her passionately, and she clung to him desperately. They were pressed together so tightly, and yet she wanted to be closer, to melt into him if she could, to become part of him, so that neither of them would be alone again.

She couldn't literally melt into him, but to straddle him and feel him sliding inside her, with his breath hot on her neck and in her ear, was pretty close. Her skin was pale and unmarked except by scars, light and dark slashes and spots across her body, and his skin was dark and traced by scars and tattoos, her hair was dark and his was gold, she was human and he was elf, but they were still, for a moment, one being, one whole.

They lay together on her bed, spent, holding hands and looking at each other. "Assassinating you was the luckiest thing that could have happened to me. If you don't make it, I'm never having sex again," Zevran announced.

She tried to laugh but couldn't. "You don't have to make such a promise-"

"It's… I'm serious. I would miss you for being you, certainly, but… I never knew what it was like to sleep with a woman who trusted me so implicitly, whom I could trust implicitly. I don't think I'll ever recover."

"Zev…"

He finally smiled a little. "I am sorry for acting so strangely. I think I will be better now, now that we have talked. Much better. And I'll follow wherever you lead. What we are doing here… stopping the Blight. I have never done anything which is so worthy."

"I suppose it would be futile to ask you to stay behind while I attack the dragon," she admitted, answering his smile shyly.

His own smile faded and he reached out to draw her closer into his arms. "Oh, my dark-haired Fereldan beauty, in truth, for the _chance_ to be by your side I would storm the Dark City itself. Never doubt it."

She choked up and could think of nothing to say, so she kissed him fiercely.

.

She woke in the grey morning before the sun rose. Zevran was draped partly over her, one arm loosely wrapped over her breasts and his nose buried in her neck.

She was comfortable. She wanted to stay there forever, wrapped in warm, strong arms, surrounded by his scent, feeling his lean body spooning hers, hearing his gentle sleep-breathing. But she had to get up.

When she stirred, Zevran made tiny noises and tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. "I need to get up," she told him. "Toilet." Which was actually true, but there was a chamber pot under the bed and she wasn't planning to go back afterwards, no matter how tempting his warmth was. She felt his eyes on her as she dressed in tunic and pants and boots, but avoided looking at him.

The castle was cold as she ascended to the walls to look at the tents of the army, camped on the top of the cliff opposite the castle on the ground blackened by the darkspawn attack. The smoke had cleared and the sun was just peeking over the tops of the distant hills, casting a red-gold light over the waking camp and onto her face.

It was a large camp. Perhaps they could win this. If the archdemon came after the army instead of the Wardens… she would just have to protect them, too. She touched the amulet hanging around her neck; Zevran's ring now hung from the chain beside it.

She turned and saw Zevran had followed her. His hair shone gold in the light of the rising sun, and his eyes were steady on her. She met his gaze now, and he came to her, taking her hand and twining his fingers with hers, standing beside her, looking out at the view like she was. She suddenly realized they had stood here once before, back when he was newly joined their group, back when Sten watched him just in case he betrayed them. He had told her his first stories that day, and it had rained, but while it wasn't raining for a moment… they'd looked at the view. And he had made silly comments about it.

He had no silly comments this morning, it seemed, only wrapping an arm around her and leaning his head against hers. She felt her heart swell painfully; she loved him, and she loved Ferelden, and she loved the sunrise. She didn't want to lose any of it.

She kissed him briefly on the mouth, and then it was time to return to reality and finish their task.

.

Their task, it seemed, was only just begun. Even as they set off on the forced march back to Denerim a few minutes later, the sun passed behind clouds and the days became dark and cloudy. The roads were just as bad as when they had set out, Everyone was tense and anxious, and Elizabeth spent much of her time when not marching going about with Lanaya or Harrowmont. The dwarves muttered to themselves, casting furtive glances up at the sky, and suspicious glances at Oghren, who chuckled at their discomfort, and they spoke in a surly manner to the humans who were not Elizabeth or Alistair.

The elves were a little more polite, taking the weather in their stride, but they and the humans were also not terribly keen on speaking to each other. Some scuffles broke out in the mornings, and the humans were surprised to find these elves were not subservient like the ones in the cities, it seemed, and the elves were contemptuous of the humans who thought such things. In the evenings everyone was too tired to fight. Elizabeth worried that even if they reached the city in time, no one would have the energy to fight and they would throw away their entire force for nothing.

On the third day, the sky turned from cloudy grey to an ominous reddish-black. Elizabeth had seen it so when passing through the southern part of Ferelden previously, and again in Redcliffe a few days ago, but never this bad. The fields around the highway were blackened; some were even still on fire. The horde had passed through less than two days ago, Riordan estimated, destroying everything in their path, and as she looked ahead, she thought she could see a glow on the horizon that was not from the sun.

Late into the afternoon, the walls of Denerim came into eyesight and it was as she feared – it was surrounded by monsters and fire. The fields and outlying villages were torched, and where there was bare ground, hideous perversions danced and gibbered and shrieked at the silent walls. Scouts reported that the horde was busily engaged in knocking down the main gates of the city with no thought for tactics, and that the archdemon was circling the city, occasionally diving with purple fire upon any soldiers foolish enough to fire arrows or ballistas at it. But the gates would not last long now.

"Once they breach the gates, the city will not stand a chance," Anora said in their hastily thrown-together war council. "We must focus our assault on one gate, and hope that it draws attackers from the other gates. Elizabeth, what would be your recommendation?"

Elizabeth had not neglected to ask Harrowmont, Lanaya, and Gregoire for advice, and her answer was prepared – if a little nervous. "The dwarves of Orzammar will charge the gate, flanked by the men of Redcliffe and Denerim. In the centre will be the mages, and the elves will be mixed into the human formations as skirmishers. I and my companions will be in the lead group." Her allies nodded their agreement.

"Not bad," Anora said. "I will be in the Denerim army with Bryland and Alfstanna. Once inside the city, I would recommend heading to Fort Drakon. It has the highest towers and you can draw the archdemon's fire without risking many civilians. It will also have many soldiers to aid you. We will keep as many darkspawn away from you as we can. Now come; it is time to address the troops."

Elizabeth nodded, her heartbeat beginning to speed up.

Anora led her to the hilltop around which their army had paused for a break. Arl Bryland called for silence, and the couple thousand soldiers of all races quieted and turned to listen.

"Before us stands the might of the darkspawn horde," Anora cried. "Gaze upon them now, but fear them not! This woman beside me you all know: Elizabeth, daughter of the Couslands, now raised to the ranks of the Grey Wardens. She is proof that glory is within reach of all of us. She has survived despite the odds, and without her, not one of us would be here!" She gestured to Elizabeth, who took a step forward.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and looked around at all the expectant eyes fixed on her. "You have come from every part of this land to heed my call, and for that I do not know how to thank you." She struggled to project her voice as clearly and strongly as Anora, the general's daughter, had done. "Before us stands our merciless and brutal goal, and we are outnumbered, outmanoeuvred, and outclassed. But I am not going to give up! And I will fight with the last of my strength to win!" After what she had done in the hope of saving her life, she couldn't talk about giving even her life to stop the darkspawn. But she would fight to win as she fought to survive, and that would have to be enough.

She looked at the burning city. "I know you love life and this land as much as I do. Even if this is not your home, you know what it feels like to have your home threatened, even to have it taken away from you. But that is why…" She drew her sword and held it aloft, and purple-blue lightning blazed along its edge. "That is why we fight today! We will not back down – we cannot back down – we will defeat the archdemon and save Ferelden – and the world!"

Anora clapped for her, and the army gave a weak cheer, and then a stronger one, and then a stronger one still.

Anora stepped forward again, pointing with her sword towards the city. "Today, we save Denerim! Today, we avenge the death of my husband, King Cailan! But most of all, today we show the Grey Wardens that we remember and honour their sacrifice! For Ferelden!"

The leaders shouted their orders, and then they were charging down the hillside towards the not-so-distant darkspawn. But their attention was on the city, not the warriors behind them, and when they turned to face them, the monsters' defense was uncoordinated, easily shattered and driven aside. As Elizabeth planned, the wedge of their forces drove in towards the gate, with the heavily armed and armoured dwarves bearing the initial brunt of the assault. They were getting slower as the darkspawn grew thicker. Elizabeth was in the thick of it, hacking and stabbing and striking with her shield, trusting that her friends were close around her. Magic erupted around her, mostly from the mages of the Tower, making a terrifying vanguard for their arrival.

There was a huge splintering crash from ahead of them, and the gate finally cracked and fell, dragged down by twenty or so ogres. She heard Gregoire giving orders to attack the ogres, but the hurlocks and genlocks – and those strange lean creatures that she heard called shrieks – were pouring into the gate as fast as they could, not even bothering about the army.

And if this gate had fallen, the other one might have as well. They would have to move fast to get to Fort Drakon, halfway up the mountain, before reinforcements cut them off or burned down the city in their path. But for now they had to clear the gate.

A few minutes of hard fighting, and they had achieved a slight lull in the fighting on the city side of their army. The rear side had now been surrounded, but they had room to retreat into the city if they needed to. Riordan found her and called her. "It is time to go. Pick two or three companions to accompany you and Alistair – we must go quietly and your entire group would attract too much attention. You may say farewell, but quickly. "

"Understood," she said. "One moment, then."

She knew she had to be quick, but she might not see them again. She pulled off her helmet, and wiped the sweat that drenched her brow. Her hair was plastered to her head. "Sten. I'm going now. You are in charge of my friends."

"Understood, kadan." Sten smiled one of his rare smiles, grim though it was.

"And thank you for everything. I could not have come this far without you."

"I have done nothing. You have carried us to this point. Do not doubt that." Sten turned away to observe the battlefield behind them.

"Zevran, Huan, you are with me." Huan barked joyously, as if she had suggested going for a romp in the fields, not a desperate battle to the death with a dragon. "Wynne… could I ask you to come as well?" Her healing and shielding would be extremely helpful, even more helpful than Morrigan's curses and elements, perhaps.

"It would be my honour," Wynne said, with a smile and a graceful bow. "All that we have been through has led up to this. Whatever happens now, to either of us, know that I am proud – infinitely proud – to have called you friend. Onward, then, and may the Maker smile upon us."

"After all that, and I am not going with you?" Morrigan cried, disappointed, even a little concerned.

"No," Elizabeth said. "I think this will be where we part ways."

"Yes, that is for the best, I suppose," Morrigan said slowly. "You go your way, to your destiny, and I go my way, to mine."

Elizabeth smiled at her, tacitly forgiving her and asking her forgiveness. "Thank you for everything."

"I did not know what it meant to have a friend, once. But you, I would gladly consider such. Go, slay your archdemon. Live gloriously, my friend. I will not see you again." She bowed to Elizabeth, who bowed back.

"So dramatic," Alistair muttered, but Morrigan gestured to him, and to Elizabeth's surprise, he went over to her for a more private farewell.

Leliana was next. "This is it? This is the end? We've come so far. It's strange knowing our fates will be decided in a matter of hours. I wish I could go with you."

"I would take all of you if I could, but apparently that is not a good idea."

"I know, I know, and you have taken those dearest to you. I would have gladly stood by your side, even to the death. But I understand. You have been a true friend, and I… I will be extremely cross with you if you… don't return. Be careful out there, and go forge a legend of your own, one that I can tell to everybody!" Leliana threw her arms around her and hugged her, and Elizabeth hugged her back tightly.

"I will, and thank you for being my friend."

Oghren was trying not to look like he was wiping his eyes when Elizabeth turned to him. "It's been an honour fighting with you, Oghren."

"Honour?" Oghren asked gruffly, straightening up. " Nobody's looked at me and seen honour in a long time, Eliza. You took in a drunken disgrace of an Orzammar warrior and gave me a reason to fight and the will to keep going. You helped me find the one woman in the whole sodding world who might put up with me, and helped me get past Branka so I could have someone new. I owe you a lot, Eliza. I consider a fine honour to die for you and your cause."

"The honour is mine, my friend." Elizabeth offered him her hand, and he shook it heartily.

"Then it's sodding honour for everyone," he said, and chuckled. "That's war for you. Let the stone turn black from the blood of monsters!"

"So the archdemon is next, is it?" Shale said, shaking her head. "Part of me is glad that it has decided to leave me here at the gate, but the other part is… apprehensive? I would almost say that I feel concern for something other than myself, even maybe for a soft, squishy companion… but that would be silly, wouldn't it?"

"Thank you, Shale," Elizabeth said. "I appreciate the thought."

"And, ah… do try not to get swallowed whole. If the beast were to fly about afterwards and poop it out, irony dictates that it would land on me. I couldn't take it." Elizabeth had to giggle nervously at that. "Well, then. I suppose this is it? Have fun storming the castle."

"Come on, then," Oghren roared. "We'll hold the gate here. What are your orders, Captain Sten?"

"Technically, he just called him Captain Captain," Zevran pointed out.

"Are we ready?" Elizabeth said. "Riordan is waiting."

"Just a moment," Alistair said. "I want to say something too. I know Morrigan's- well, anyway, who knows if we'll survive long enough to take that final blow? So I just want you to know it's been an honour fighting at your side."

"You've been a good friend," she said to him.

He gave her a fistbump. "Then let's go kick the archdemon's ass!"

"What about me? Don't I get some last words?" Zevran said, spinning her around into his arms. "I'm glad you are taking me with you. I was nearly afraid you were about to march inside without me, in some misguided concern for your lover's health. We cannot have that! Let us go and teach this dragon a lesson, yes? It should have stayed in whatever hole it crawled out of. And no getting eaten! Unless it's by me, or you think it's really important, of course."

"It's very far down on my to-do list," Elizabeth assured him, and kissed him.

There was a longing look on his face when they separated, but then he gave her an evil smirk. "Are you sure we don't have time for a quickie?"

She burst out laughing, laughing joyously, and broke away from him, running in the direction Riordan was already striking out in. Huan followed her, barking. She saw Alistair and Wynne were both chuckling at her, and she didn't care. Her heart was light. Every burden had fallen from her shoulders except this last one, and it might be the greatest of all, but it was only one, and she could deal with that.

Zevran caught up to her, catching her hand, and she smiled broadly at him. "Thank you. I feel much better."

"That's what I'm here for. That, and killing things. I will kill all of the things, except for the archdemon."

.

Her good mood turned to serious determination as they set to the grim business of pressing up through the city. Many buildings were on fire from flaming arrows shot by the darkspawn, and civilians and guards were running about attempting to save them, to flee, to retreat to more defensible positions – and the darkspawn that had managed to rush through the collapsed gate were finding them easy targets. She hoped anxiously that Elra and Gemmet were not among them.

"Keep going," Riordan advised them. She knew he was right. If they stopped to fight the darkspawn, they would become overwhelmed or at least too spent to fight the archdemon. So they ran through the streets, dodging civilians, taking back alleys to avoid one or two ogres. In one alley, they had to do some quick swordwork when some shrieks spotted them and materialized out of seemingly thin air, and she jumped to protect Wynne.

Riordan's skill with a sword was awe-inspiring. He took no shield, only using his sword with a master's grace and accuracy; no darkspawn was able to so much as touch him. He was as good as Zevran, Elizabeth thought, perhaps even better with all his experience.

They ran on through the city, Elizabeth and Alistair panting a little in their armour. Wynne kept up with them quite well, her robes not hindering her at all. Huan bounded tirelessly beside them, and Zevran and Riordan ran fluidly a little ahead of them. They were almost halfway there when suddenly there was a roar from their left, and they saw a whole division of various types of darkspawn rampaging down one of the main roads. Her eyes went wide.

"The other gate has fallen," Riordan said calmly, still leading them onwards. "Don't get hit by arrows. We cannot get pinned here."

"I'll do my best," Alistair said wryly. "I'll just use the eyes I have in the back of my head to spot them before they hit me."

There was another roar from ahead of them, and Elizabeth almost paused in her stride, almost stumbled, and then she saw – the new roar was from a large number of drunks, wearing all kinds of makeshift armour, wielding any sort of implements they could find. They charged past Elizabeth's group, and the roaring turned to screams.

"Poor fools," Alistair panted. "Is it wrong that all I can think right now is that they'll buy us some time?"

"It is natural in this situation," Riordan said. "We will mourn and honour them later." But if they didn't keep going, everyone in that city would share their fate.

There was a rattle from above, and a number of elves appeared on the rooftops, armed with bows. "Go, Wardens!" shouted Valendrien from among them. "We'll keep them back for a moment longer." Elizabeth wondered where they had acquired the bows, and then figured they had plenty of opportunities to find weapons. Maybe the guards had even armed them when they saw the attack was coming. Loghain had said the alienage would be impossible to hold, had considered the elves useless enough to sell into slavery. He had reckoned without the strength of desperate people backed into a corner, she thought.

They had to cross one more bridge before they would make it to the fortress. Even as they began to cross it, movement came from the right, and Elizabeth turned to see the archdemon diving at them along the river's course between the buildings. She screamed and jumped back – it was so fast! And it seemed even more gigantic than before, and the purple fire it was breathing wasn't helping.

Riordan didn't even hesitate – as the archdemon struck the bridge, shaking its foundations and cracking it in the middle, he leaped from the arch onto the dragon's back, clinging with one hand and stabbing furiously with his sword in the other.

"Andraste's flaming sword, he's good," Alistair gasped, watching the dragon spiral up, trying to dislodge the small stinging creature lodged on its back. As they watched, the dragon suddenly banked to the right, and Riordan was partly flung off. He dug his sword into the dragon's wing, but it cut all the way to the bottom, and Riordan fell from above Fort Drakon to its courtyard. The dragon screamed and crashed into the tallest level of Fort Drakon.

Elizabeth and Alistair looked at each other with white faces. "It's up to us, now," Alistair said tightly.

"First you have to get up to that castle," Zevran said. "The bridge doesn't look stable. We must hurry!" He ran lightly to the other side and turned, waiting for them with an outstretched hand. Huan ran to him and got a headscratch for his trouble.

"I'm going," Alistair said, and charged across the bridge after Zevran. Even as he reached the other side, it crumbled and the gap in the middle widened. Alistair almost slipped into the river, but Zevran caught him and hauled him to safety. Huan barked anxiously.

"Now how do we cross?" panted Wynne, who had still not quite recovered her breath.

"Here's a rope!" Zevran cried. "It will reach, just grab it and we'll pull you across!" The sound of monsters behind them hooting and screeching was growing louder.

Elizabeth grabbed the end of the rope and tied it around both herself and Wynne before taking a firm hold on it. She got a running start and jumped as far as she could, but didn't even get halfway before she fell. The rope snapped taut, and Wynne clung to her as the two men and the dog pulled them steadily to safety. As Elizabeth got to her feet and Zevran cut the women free from the rope, the darkspawn arrived on the other side of the bridge, screaming at them. Some of them tried to jump, but fell short, splashing heavily into the river. She saw with satisfaction that darkspawn had no idea how to swim.

The companions turned and kept running. Sooner or later those darkspawn would find a way to cross the river. But they were nearly at the fort, and the roads were sloping uphill. Yes, there was the gate, and it was closed, the portcullis down.

Elizabeth banged on it. "Grey Wardens! Let us in!"

"The darkspawn are attacking!" a soldier yelled fearfully at them from an arrow slit in the tower beside them. There was a noise of arguing, and then a new voice rang from the window.

"We can't let you in, Elizabeth. To do so would risk the integrity of the Fort. I am sorry, but Denerim may be lost and you will be too."

"Cauthrien!" Elizabeth shouted. "Are you aware the archdemon lies wounded on your rooftop? Only a Grey Warden can kill it! Let us in!"

"The… archdemon? I had hoped it was not, but there is no mistaking that creature, is there?"

"Yes!" Elizabeth glanced behind them. There were no darkspawn yet, but she wasn't certain how long that would last. "Don't waste time, Cauthrien! The longer you delay, the more likely it is that someone else will kill it – and then it will rise again!"

"What!?" Elizabeth heard orders, and the gate began to creak open the slightest crack. They squeezed through as soon as they could, and the gate shut quickly behind them. Over on one side, Riordan's body lay broken and still on the pavement, soldiers clustered around him, whispering to each other.

Cauthrien met them inside the gate. "Is what you said true?" she demanded. "The archdemon will rise again if killed by a mere mortal?"

Elizabeth ignored her mocking tone. "As far as I know, it is true. Unfortunately, Warden Riordan was killed in his attempt-"

She was interrupted by a screech from the archdemon, and flinched, covering her ears. There were words in that cry, words she did not understand or want to understand. Words in a voice that had plagued her nightmares off and on for months, a voice she would never forget until she died – which might be today.

But if she was affected, Cauthrien and the other soldiers were more affected. Even Zevran shrank back, looking frightened, and Huan cowered at her feet. Only Alistair was as little bothered as she was.

"H-how can we help, then?" Cauthrien said, when she had recovered sufficiently.

"Just hold back the darkspawn," Alistair said. "They'll probably be coming to the archdemon's defense about now. You have ballistas here, don't you? Shoot the dragon's wings, shoot his legs, shoot his tail – just don't accidentally shoot his head or his heart."

"Understood," Cauthrien said, already recovering, a hard, determined look on her face. Even if her lord was dead, she was still his trusted lieutenant and the captain of Fort Drakon. "I'll have someone show you to the roof."

Elizabeth followed the frightened soldier through the castle she had once bluffed her way out of, moving higher and higher through its levels until the soldier pointed them at one last doorway at the top of a short flight of stairs in a darkened hall, and ran in terror.

She drew her sword, adjusted her battered shield, and smiled fiercely at her friends. "Let's do this." She ran up the stairs to the door and booted it open, letting the dim Blight-covered daylight wash into the dark corridor.

.

I followed her, as I would always follow her, and watched her as she ran out onto the rooftop. There was no fear on her beautiful face now, not even rage – although that could change – just a wonderful, indomitable, warm-hearted determination. And she was charging straight as an arrow at the wounded archdemon lying on the roof. Its right wing was in bloody tatters, and it seemed dazed from its crash-landing. I had seen it once before, in the tunnels near Orzammar, but to see it here, in a place I understood, in the smoggy light of day… it was as terrifying as all the tales said, all purple armoured plating and a head like a skull, crowned with horns three feet long.

But my Liz was more terrifying, I was certain.

Alistair and Huan were running after her. Madam Wynne was casting defensive spells on everyone. I looked around and found there were ballistas. They were angled outwards, and some of them were smashed, and I let a curse slip out as I wrestled with the nearest working one, bringing it back to bear on the dragon. The first bolt arced out with a deep twang, and the bolt sank into its left wing. Well, it wasn't taking off anytime soon.

The dragon leaned back, and suddenly its head shot forward and purple fire scorched the rooftop. Liz jumped to one side with a shout, and as it turned to follow her, she ran around it. Alistair took advantage of its distraction to cut at its neck, but although he managed to find a gap in the armoured plates and blood gushed out, it would take more than that to kill it for good. It hissed at the wound and swung its head around, using it as a club to knock Alistair away. Before it could pounce on him and devour him, Liz stabbed it in the leg. Torn between two enemies, one on each side, and me shooting it in the wing, it would be too divided to conquer.

Uh oh. Apparently my shooting it hadn't gone unnoticed. It was coming in my direction, and inhaling to breathe fire again-

"No you don't!" Liz shouted, hacking at its head, so bravely. Her sword bounced off its horns, but I saw lightning crackle for a few moments after each strike. It turned and snapped at her, and she fell backwards with a cry. Alistair jumped in front of her, taking the next snake-like lunge on his shield, being knocked head over heels – but now Liz was back on her feet and could move and defend herself again.

I heard a hullaballoo from the door we had entered the arena by, and looked to see a number of hurlocks climbing the stairs to the rooftop. So the gates and the defenders in the lower halls hadn't been able to hold them back. Well, they were soft city guards, terrified by the thought of fighting, let alone fighting monsters out of the most nightmarish legends available. I wondered if there were any alive. The Cauthrien woman probably was. She was as tough as they came.

More importantly, the darkspawn couldn't get near Liz. I yanked the ballista around again, and managed to get a shot off before Huan was attacking them, Madam Wynne helping him out with some well-placed stone spells. But there were more and more of them, nearly a dozen now with more arriving. I reloaded as fast as I could, although I was considering joining the melee myself… No, my next bolt – carefully aimed so as not to hit Huan, who was barking himself hoarse – skewered three in one hit. Try doing that with a dagger!

They were spreading out now, getting away from the door. Some of them were charging at me, and I grinned as I sprang to meet them, my daggers of fire and ice dancing through the air. Darkspawn always did seem to have some kind of perpetual skull-like grin. At least they seemed to be having a good time when I cut their throats.

"Get back, Wynne!" I shouted. She should be behind me, at this point – her stoneskin spell would only last so long, and getting surrounded by hurlocks was foolish for anyone, let alone a defenseless mage. Liz and Alistair would have to handle the dragon on their own for the moment. I dodged an axe attack, and felt pain blossom along my leg as another one got a lucky swipe in with a sword. The pain faded quickly as Wynne cast a healing spell on me, letting me move freely again, and I used my positioning to sweep that darkspawn off its feet, twisting around to stab it in the eye and then jumping up again.

Wynne cried out, and I turned to see that two genlocks had gotten up to her while she was healing me. I hissed and dashed to her rescue, stabbing one in the back. The other half-turned to face me and I slashed its throat. Black blood spattered over my hands, but Wynne had been knocked down. The old lady was still alive, as far as I could tell, but magic was no longer on the table for us for the time being. I turned back to face the darkspawn. Not all of them were attacking me, which was good for me, but that meant that there were enough running around to attack Liz and Alistair.

This was the most intense fight I'd been in since that one time I was part of Princess Ferenna's assassination attempt. On one hand, I was loving it. On the other hand… _she_ was in far more danger than I was, and I wasn't allowed to help her. Alistair had moved to help Huan block her from the advancing darkspawn, leaving her alone to fight the dragon.

Even as I sidestepped another attack, blades flashing, the dragon let out another shriek like it had done before. I almost fell to my knees at the horrible sound, and even the darkspawn flinched. I had to recover first. I had to!

There were only a couple left facing me, and then I would be able to get back on the ballista. I forced my arms and legs to move again, although they were trembling now, and my blows did not have their usual fire in them. I would make do. I could survive this, at least.

The dragon was crawling around, dragging its tattered and bleeding wings behind it, forcing Liz back with snaps of his jaws. Each snap rang from the stones, and sounded like it could crush steel bricks. Liz was dodging, not even using her shield right now – what good was her little shield against teeth as long as her arm? But she looked to be getting tired. I finished off the last hurlock facing me and ran back to the ballista, loading it as fast as I could. If I could slow it down, she would have a better chance.

The dragon roared again, breathing fire again, but its fury seemed weaker now, too, and Liz dodged it easily. It was getting close. It wouldn't be long now-

The dragon snapped again, and its teeth closed around her shield arm. It tossed its head, and she flew through the air, away from me. I shouted her name in agony, but she didn't fall from the keep; she struck the wall beside the door and slid down.

Screw it. I would have to shoot it. My next bolt struck it in the nose, and it screamed and shook its head.

But she was still moving, climbing painfully to her feet, dragging herself up for another round with death incarnate.

"No more!" she shouted to me. "No more! I have it!" She painfully ran to the side, and it was too full of bolts on my side to follow her.

"Elizabeth-!" shouted Alistair, but he was blocked in by four hurlocks. There was no way he was reaching her side in time to take the blow himself.

Liz roared and swung her lightning sword, stabbing down two-handed into the spine at the base of the skull. A brilliant light erupted from the wound, and the sound of rushing wind. Both Liz and the dragon were screaming, and my ears felt like they were going to bleed from the sheer volume. I couldn't even hear her. But I could see her, and I wanted to go to her, drag her away from the chaos that was blasting out from the wound she had caused. Except my feet wouldn't move.

I cursed my feet, my heart crying out even as Liz cried out, even as the dragon and the wind cried out. The light was beaming high into the sky, a spectacular sight, probably reaching the moon itself for all I knew or cared.

The noise and light reached its peak and the dragon exploded, knocking me straight onto my ass. I tumbled over and over until I hit the parapet of the fortress and lay there stunned for a moment.

As soon as I could, I dragged myself to my feet and sprinted over to what was left of the archdemon. It was now only a pile of bones and flesh and an awful stench. That didn't matter. All that mattered was the fragile, fallen figure beside it in mismatched armour. Her helmet had fallen off again and was lying at the other side of the roof. Somehow, her lovely face was unmarred by the violence she had just been subjected to. I flung myself down on my knees beside her, listening and feeling for her breath, praying like I'd never prayed before in my life.

She breathed! It was shallow and halting, but she yet breathed. I could have done a cartwheel for joy. But I swept her into my arms instead, gently pressing her to my heart, more relieved than I had ever been in my life.

Wynne was up and at my shoulder, channeling healing spells into my heroine. The old lady seemed about ready to faint herself, but she was still going strong for Liz. I was rocking back and forth, I suddenly realized, and my face was wet. Probably with the blood of my enemies. If darkspawn bled clear blood. Yes, that was it.

"Is she a-alive?" Alistair stammered, hurrying up finally, Huan pushing his way in too.

"She is alive," Wynne told him, and he collapsed into a sitting position like a puppet with the strings cut.

"Thank the Maker. Thank the Maker, Andraste, and… everyone who helped us, I guess. Anyway, you really just left me and Huan to clean up the last darkspawn?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you two. But they didn't put up much of a fight, anyway."

Wynne straightened up, dusting her hands off on her robes. "We should get her off this rooftop. Alistair, would you help-"

"I've got her," I said. No one was taking her from me now. Not the Crows, not the Wardens, not even Alistair for the purposes of helping me get her medical aid. I could carry her. She was so light, even in her armour. How old was she again? I think she told me she had turned nineteen recently. "…You can get her helmet."

.

Author's note: soundtracks for this chapter are all from SnK - Vogel im Kafig for LizZev morning and the march on Denerim, Counter-Attack Mankind for Anora and Liz's speech and the battle at the gate, and Doa for the Archdemon battle. Zevran's POV is difficult; if you have suggestions for improving that section I don't mind hearing them.


	14. Aftermath

Aftermath

.

She became slowly aware that she was warm. She was warm and comfortable, and really, that was all she wanted to know at the moment.

There was a shadow over her from the… left? Someone was breathing near her. The more stimuli she received, the less her brain felt like getting back to sleep. Which was really annoying, because she wanted to sleep some more. Maybe go take Huan in the fields for a romp later… She could hear birds chirping outside her window, so it must be time to get up, but she didn't want to. "Mm… Mother, just a few more minutes…"

Someone's breath caught on her right side, but from her left came a low but insistant voice, a voice that made her stomach flip-flop. "Lii-iiz… tell your brother to stop glaring at me. He's quite intimidating."

Her eyes flickered open and immediately closed again. It was too bright for that nonsense. "Zev…?" She managed to get one hand free and rubbed at her eyes. There was a lot of sleep crusted there and she took her time with it.

Then she processed what he had said. "…What?" She opened her eyes again, blinking against the light…

…and shrieked, because Fergus was standing on the right side of her bed, looking anxious.

He broke into a relieved grin, even as he shied away from her cry of surprise and joy. "Maker, Beth, you have some lungs on you."

"Fergus! …Fergus! How- What-" She couldn't contain her incoherent high-pitched noises.

"Calm down, please," Fergus said, fishing her right hand out from under the covers and pressing it. "Beth, you have a lot of explaining to do. I go out scouting for two days, get my leg broken and my skull half beat in and lose half my loyal men, and by the time I've healed up and come back, I find you've turned the entire known world upside down? And then saved it? Not to mention picked up some extremely shady character who won't leave you alone even when I threaten to kick his ass, and looks quite capable of poisoning your medicine. Fortunately, the old lady who gives you your medicine isn't taking any of his nonsense."

"You were injured?" Elizabeth cried in horror, now struggling to sit up. Both men assisted her, Fergus glaring at Zevran the whole while, Zevran keeping a neutrally amused expression while he arranged pillows around her. "How did you survive such severe injuries?"

Fergus coughed. "Some Chasind found me. I owe them my life, truly. I did not think I could expect such kindness from them, but… I guess all people rally together against darkspawn, eh? Like you did. Now tell me the whole story! I want to know everything!"

Elizabeth glared at her resurrected brother. "Shall I get you a ladder, so you can get off my back?" Fergus only chuckled.

"Let her rest," Wynne commanded from the doorway. "I'm sure she will tell you everything, but for Andraste's sake don't pester her with questions, even if you are her brother."

"Wynne!" Elizabeth cried. "You're all right! Is everyone all right?"

"Everyone's fine, dear," Wynne said soothingly. "I'd get Huan, but I'm afraid he'd jump on you, and you cracked a few ribs when that dragon exploded, and then there was the concussion from slightly before that. I'll let them all know you're awake. Now, try to rest, and if these two cause you any trouble, I'll send Sten in to clear them out. You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Zevran said cheerfully.

"As you say," Fergus said with a sigh of resignation. Wynne left, shaking her finger at him.

"Fergus," Elizabeth began. "About Oriana… and Oren…"

Fergus nodded, swallowing. "I know. I was in the woods so long, unable to move, fretting over them all, and then… when I got back to civilization… I heard enough." He squeezed her hand again. "I'm glad you got to kill Howe, the greedy, traitorous bastard. I just wish I'd been there to help you kill him. I'm sure you trashed him."

"She certainly did," Zevran said enthusiastically. "She was glorious. Magnificent! And very sexy."

Fergus blinked, looking very disturbed. "Se- My sister is not _sexy_."

"Maybe not to you," Zevran countered impudently. "But even waking up from a three-day nap after wearing herself to the bone, not to mention almost dying, in solving Ferelden's little invasion problem, she's still beautiful."

"Beautiful, I will grant you," Fergus said, still suspicious. "Beth, why does this Zevran joker hang around you and say such inappropriate things? Why haven't you killed him yet?"

"Three days?" Elizabeth said. "W-what…"

"You killed the dragon," Zevran told her. "It exploded, and the darkspawn went into immediate panic. They're still being hunted down across the country, but it's much much easier now that they don't have this disturbing desire to destroy everything in their path. You were knocked unconscious, obviously, and Madam Wynne has been nursing you back to health. With my help, of course."

"Who are you?" Fergus exclaimed. "Beth, I understand he… traveled with you, but he's very good at dodging questions. And he keeps _touching_ you! I don't trust him!"

Elizabeth winced. "Then you really won't trust him in a moment. He's an Antivan Crow, sent to kill me-"

"He's what!?" Fergus jumped to his feet, his hand going to his sword.

Elizabeth held out her hand to stop him. "And he's my lover."

She could have heard a pin drop on carpet in the room – her room at Arl Eamon's estate in Denerim, she now realized. Fergus's eyes were bugging out of his head, and Zevran was partly hiding behind her, and grinning madly. She narrowed her eyes at Fergus. "And he's traveled with me long enough to kill me a few thousand times over, so I think I can trust him."

"Trust him to do what!?" Fergus exclaimed, and she saw that he really was distraught.

"Fergus. Sit down and I'll tell you that entire story. It… might take me a while… especially… some parts."

"You don't have to tell me about… Highever, or anything you don't want to," Fergus said, but he sat down.

Her hand went to her heart, to the amulet and ring that hung there. "You should know what happened. …Zev, could you… just for a few minutes…"

"I'll be back when you call, _mi amor_ ," he said, and kissed her brow before rising to leave.

Fergus watched him go. "An assassin… of all people… Why not the knight I met? Alston?"

"Alistair," she corrected him. "Alistair is a good man, and a good friend. But… I love Zev. And that's all I can say about it now. Don't argue with me right now, I'm tired."

"All right, no arguing with the tired, injured, and ridiculously stubborn woman with a Qunari bodyguard and assassin boyfriend," Fergus agreed, half-teasing, half-grumpy, and Elizabeth smiled a little. "I suppose I can't complain about him being Antivan, not when Oriana… was Antivan. …It's not like he's Orlesian or something."

"I'll start from when you left Highever," Elizabeth said, before he could continue mumbling to himself in disapproval.

.

She didn't finish the story that day, but she managed to finish it the next day. She begged Wynne to let her leave her bed, as she was getting restless, and Fergus glued himself to her side, supporting her as she shakily walked down to the front yard of the estate to get some proper fresh air. She would have been annoyed at him for being so protective of her, except she had thought he was dead and she rather wanted to keep him close by too. Zevran kept a perimeter around her, ensuring that the receiving line of her friends greeted her only one at a time.

She sat on a bench, surrounded by shrubs flowering with brightly-coloured vigour. It seemed that Arl Eamon's estate had been protected well enough that the darkspawn who made it into the city never made it close to inside, and she was grateful – Elra and the others from Highever were just fine. And now with the smoke from the invasion cleared up, and repairs being made to the city, even from inside the walls of the estate she could feel the cheerful energy of spring. She wanted to go dance in the market with Zevran again.

Later. There would be time for everything later.

Alistair was first to come see her. "So we made it. I'm impressed, aren't you?"

"I… I still can't believe it all happened," Elizabeth said.

"Me either," Fergus muttered.

Alistair nodded. "The odds were completely against even one of us actually getting to the archdemon… but of course you would make it. I knew you would. I guess Morrigan was telling the truth after all. …I'm glad."

"Me too," Fergus muttered.

"Me too," she said, and then Leliana came running to her and hugged her tightly.

"You're all right! I was so worried. Sten was a wonderful leader, very concise and thoughtful, but he's not you."

"I'm glad you're all right, too, Leliana. Have you started on that song you were going to write?"

Leliana flashed her a giddy smile. "Oh, yes. It's more than a song. It will have to be a whole song cycle, I think! Don't worry. Oh, and I must go and get Huan. He's been dying to see you! One moment."

"Good to know the mutt survived, too," Fergus said. "I left Goldie back at the Cousland house in Denerim. She was the one who found the Chasind for me, actually. I suppose they should get reacquainted."

There was a deep bark, and Huan came sprinting across the yard and threw himself at her knees, wriggling and twisting in a paroxysm of delight, his stubby tail wagging for all it was worth and a heaping helping of drool ending up on her knee. She laughed and patted his head, and got licked all over her face.

"Yes, just the same as ever," Fergus said, pretending to be disgusted. "At least Goldie has _manners_."

"I love you too," she said to her dog. "Now lie down. Lie down! I have a story to continue."

Later in the afternoon, Oghren wandered over to visit. "I figured something out. Humans have a better taste for spirits than I thought, heh," he said with a big grin. "The ale up here is actually _good_. Orzammar ale tastes like dirt in comparison. Probably because they put dirt in it. Go figure."

Elizabeth and Fergus laughed. "Took you long enough," she said. "You've only been here how many months? And drinking every time we visit so much as an inn."

"Do they really put dirt in it?" Fergus asked.

"I know my ale," Oghren said, trying to look offended. "Brew my own. Care to try some?"

"No!" Elizabeth cried, and Oghren guffawed while Fergus looked alarmed at her outburst. Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Does that mean you're staying here?"

Oghren shrugged. "Eh. For now. They may have already branded me a surfacer back home, anyhow. I'm getting used to that big sky up there. And I'm thinking I might just look up Felsi again… and see where that goes?"

She smiled. "I'm glad. I hope you two are happy."

"Ha! I'll drink to that!" Oghren cried. "And… since we're more or less done adventuring for now, I wanted to say… you're all right. For a human."

"It was good traveling with you," Elizabeth said, and shook his hand again.

"I don't come by… by friends very often. I'm glad to call you one, Warden." Oghren stood, coughed awkwardly, and walked off quickly.

After a few minutes, she looked up to see Sten standing over her. "It is good to see you again, kadan."

"Hello, Sten," she said. "Have you met my brother?"

"I have. He is much like you."

"Thanks… I think," she said, sneaking a cheeky glance at her brother. He pouted at her, and she giggled.

Sten shook his head. "These people… they call you "hero". It is a strange word, but I think I understand its meaning. The arishok on occasion has declared a qunari to be _qunoran vehl_ , one who serves as an example to others. Such examples are always made after their death, however. A death in service to the Qun. A living _qunoran vehl_ would be too proud."

She perked up. "That's very interesting. Do the qunari celebrate?"

"When a _qunoran vehl_ is declared, certainly. It is one of few occasions when the qunari are permitted to engage in… revelry. There is imbibing of spirits, public chanting, meditations abandoned… it is madness. Much like is happening outside this estate."

"That isn't madness," Fergus objected. "Everyone is just very relieved."

Sten snorted. "Yes, were I too weak to protect myself, I suppose I would also be vastly relieved to have a "hero" save the day."

"That's how humans work, Sten," she said, smiling, and he grimaced in acquiescence.

"I suppose I should tell you… I have decided to return to my people. Your quest is done, and thus so is my reason for accompanying you."

"That will be a long trip home," she said sympathetically.

"Yes," he said curtly. "It will be difficult to travel alone after… so much time spent with companions."

"We are all fond of you," she said. "Especially Shale, I think."

"It must be said: You found my sword and gave me a chance to restore my honour. I owe you a great debt."

She shook her head. "You owe me nothing."

His gaze bored into her in his usual intense, dour fashion. "Some debts cannot be discarded. There will come a time when I will return, and then it shall be done." She… really didn't want to know what he was talking about. It sounded ominous. But Sten did not seem bothered by it, only respectful to her. "Perhaps I shall see you again one day. Until then, may you always find the path you seek. Farewell, kadan."

"Farewell, Sten," she said, and the giant turned and strode off.

Even Shale came to see her that afternoon. "So it survived after all. My impression that all creatures made of flesh were hopelessly squishy was… premature."

Elizabeth smiled. "It's nice to be appreciated."

"It has made me revise my opinion of its kind – my kind," Shale said slowly. "I am, or at least was, a dwarf. A creature of flesh. I have to keep reminding myself that. In fact, I think I may even try to become one again."

Elizabeth blinked with round eyes. "Come again?"

Shale looked away, uncharacteristically awkward. "Wynne… has offered to accompany me to Tevinter, to speak with the mages there. The Circle of Minrathous has the largest collection of arcane knowledge in Thedas. If it is possible to reverse this… process… then the knowledge to do so will be there. Or that is my hope. And if not? Then I will keep looking. I have nothing if not time, yes?"

"I wish you good luck," Elizabeth told her sincerely. "Will you return to Ferelden at any point?"

"I intend to return, eventually… unless I finally decide to destroy all pigeons everywhere." Elizabeth laughed. "That may take a while. But otherwise, I will come back. If it happens one day to see a tiny little dwarf who appears very nervous of being squished… that will be me. Until then, I wish it well. It- _you_ have been a fine friend."

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, touched.

.

When she was finally able to finish her story, Fergus was quiet for a long time. She leaned against his shoulder, a hand on her amulet, remembering…

Fergus sighed and put a brotherly arm around her. "Father… he would have been so proud of you. I know I am. You've done good."

She smiled. "Thank you, brother."

Now if only he could stop glaring at Zevran when he thought she wasn't looking… yes, that would be ideal. There had a couple times in the morning when she thought Fergus was going to attack the elf again, and her quelling glance that had been honed on Zevran himself was only partly effective against Fergus, who had known her since she was a baby, after all.

Zevran, for his part, took it all in stride. "Charming man, your brother," he said to her casually the evening of the second day after she had woken, while tucking her back into bed. "So much like you."

Elizabeth shot him a suspicious look. "Fergus is Fergus. I'm not sure if you're attracted to him or just being polite about his incessant hostility towards you."

"A little of column A, a little of column B," Zevran said, smiling. "Don't get me wrong – you are still the only one for me. But… if I had a little sister, and I found that little sister after several months, and she was hanging around someone like me, I'd be a little hostile too."

"He'll come around," Elizabeth said. "I hope. We… bicker a bit, but we do love each other."

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Do you, now."

"Not like that!" She punched him in the arm, making a truly horrified face, and he grinned, rubbing the affected area.

"Well, now you don't have to worry about the teyrnship of Highever. He'll fill that position perfectly."

"He will," she said softly. "I'm sure it's all been a shock to him. I wish…" She shook her head and didn't finish that thought, reaching to touch her amulet. "Thank you for being patient with him."

"It's the least I could do, _mi amor_. He is your only family by blood. You have all of us, but he… must be awfully lonely." And Zevran knew loneliness, she knew.

"I'd like to help him rebuild Highever," she said, almost to herself. "I don't know what everyone else has planned for me, but surely they'd allow me at least a couple months."

"I'm sure they will," Zevran said, smoothing her hair back from her forehead and kissing her on the mouth. She reached up to rub his ear, and he purred. "Now, rest."

"I love you, Zev. I hope you knew that."

He smiled and his amber eyes were tender. "Yes. Yes, I know that."

.

A couple days later, about when she was beginning to feel like her proper self again, Queen Anora held an official celebration to mark the end of the Blight. Elra, who helped her dress, would have chosen a fine dress of Antivan silk and jewels for her to wear, but Elizabeth chose to go in her mismatched armour – silvery ironbark breastplate, greenish-brown drakescale boots and gloves, and her old coppery helmet under her arm. Her sword Starfang was at her side – she had given Fergus their father's sword the day before – and her battered old Cousland shield had been repaired and repainted by Arl Eamon's smiths.

She wasn't Lady Cousland. She was just Elizabeth of the Grey Wardens, a soldier, and it was as a soldier she would meet her nation. And she was becoming a little more reconciled to the idea, after all this time.

She was presented to Anora in front of the entire Landsmeet, and knelt on one knee to the queen, who was once again in her royal robes and now with a thin gold circlet on her head. Anora raised her to her feet and turned her to face the Landsmeet.

"My friends," Anora said to the attentive hall, "we are gathered to celebrate those responsible for our victory. Of those who stood against the darkspawn siege of Denerim, there is one in particular who deserves commendation. The one who led the charge against the archdemon and killed it remains with us still, an inspiration to all she saved that day. She joins an ancient and select group; the last Warden to defeat the Blight was Garahel, four centuries ago. Ladies and gentlemen, I present the Hero of Ferelden, the Grey Warden who defeated the Blight, Elizabeth."

The lords and ladies – and her remaining companions, mingling freely with them for the occasion – burst into applause, and then Teagan led a cheer for her. She heard a piercing whistle and blinked, and decided it was probably Zevran. Or Leliana, or Fergus. Possibly even Alistair. One of the silly ones of her acquaintance.

When the applause began to die down, Anora turned to her. "Warden Elizabeth, it is hard to imagine how you could have helped Ferelden more. I think it only appropriate that I return the favour. Is there any boon you would request of Ferelden's queen?"

Elizabeth shook her head. She had been half expecting the question, but… "There is nothing I need. I did only my duty." And duty came first in her family, as her father said. She half-smiled as she remembered.

"Truly?" Anora said, smiling at her. "Then know you will always be welcome within these halls. The crown of Ferelden will be ever grateful." She turned to the hall and raised her voice again. "Let it also be known that the arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens. There they can rebuild, following the example of those who went before them." Not everyone applauded at that, but Bann Sighard certainly did, and Fergus certainly did, and many followed them.

"What are your plans?" Anora asked her once it was quiet enough for her to speak without shouting, though the applause went on. "Will you remain with the Grey Wardens?"

Elizabeth hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. There are still darkspawn loose in Ferelden. And… Riordan said I might become Commander of the Grey of Ferelden. There are things I must do."

"I am certain they will be relieved to know your intentions. There is a group of eager Fereldan citizens waiting outside to get a look at their hero. I suggest you make at least a brief appearance before they storm the gate." Anora chuckled. "Just let me know when you wish to do so and I shall present you to the populace."

Elizabeth smiled back at her, a little relieved. She had thought Anora might hold a grudge against her for killing her father, but apparently saving the country meant that either she was forgiven, or Anora was very good at hiding her true feelings. She hoped it was the former. She wanted to like Anora.

The lords and ladies crowded her as she stepped down from the royal dais among them, and for a few minutes, everything was bowing and smiling and accepting congratulations. Wynne, dressed in a lovely olive-coloured gown, was the first person she knew who managed to get close enough to greet her. "So now you're "the Hero of Ferelden". My, my. How does it feel?"

"It's a little strange," Elizabeth said, her smile turning awkward. She had expected attention, even for Anora to make a big deal out of her – countries needed heroes, after all, and she couldn't get away from the fact that she had done something heroic, but… "I… didn't exactly want this much attention."

"Of that I have no doubt," Wynne said, nodding understandingly. "It's just a title you'll be wearing for a long time to come, just as Loghain wore his. But it's not so bad, is it? A Blight defeated with the other nations barely becoming aware. Who could ask for better?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I couldn't have done it without everyone's help. I… If you had all been up there with me, sharing my embarrassment, I would have felt better."

Wynne laughed. "I don't think many heroes ever do their great deeds without help. I'm glad not to be on the receiving end of all this attention, myself. I say let the young have their fame. Not that I've gone without notice. Irving asked me to take over as first enchanter, but I don't wish to go back. Not after all this. Instead, I've decided to travel. Shale has expressed a desire to go to Tevinter to look into a way to regain her mortality, and I will join her."

"Yes, she said as much," Elizabeth said. "But… about your… you know…"

"It's true, I… don't know how much time I have," Wynne said placidly. "Maybe not very long at all. So I shall see as much of the world as the Maker allows. Perhaps this is a gift, in the end… a nudge in the right direction? I doubt we will meet again, my dear. If not… please accept my best wishes." And she hugged Elizabeth, who hugged her back affectionately. She would miss Wynne, that was for sure.

Fergus was waiting, his hand on his hip, smirking at her. "Well, well, Arlessa of Amaranthine. Not bad! If you need any help, you know you can always count on me! You know, putting down any rebellions and such…"

"I'm not Arlessa, O Teyrn Cousland," Elizabeth told him tartly. "I'm a Grey Warden, and… it's not the first time Grey Wardens have been nobility, or held castles. They're not supposed to, but I'm sure it's not even the first time they've administered estates. And besides, wasn't I the favourite to rule?"

Fergus just smirked harder at her verbal raspberry. "Ah, well, there's some justice in taking Howe's land and giving it to some of the people he wronged so terribly. You know I'm heading straight to Highever tomorrow, right? See if I can clean up the mess Howe made of it. I will see you soon, I hope?"

Elizabeth's smile faded into something a little more wistful. "Yes. I would like to help you for a while. Amaranthine can wait a month or two."

"Good," Fergus said, becoming equally wistful. "Highever won't be the same without… everyone around. Take care of yourself, you hear? Or I'll find you and nag you like Mother did until you're ready to tear out your hair." He grinned at her blush and irritated fidget. "See you soon, little sister."

"Take care of yourself, brother."

Alistair, dressed in a shiny new suit of armour, found her in the press of people and tried to draw her aside. Seeing from his face that he had something urgent to say, she went with him and waved away the crowd slightly. "So… the rest of the Grey Wardens haven't arrived yet from Orlais, but they've already sent… questions. What should I tell them?"

Elizabeth knew what he was talking about. "…I find it almost impossible to lie. I think we'll have to tell them the truth."

Alistair grimaced. "That a maleficar saved you and then ran off to have my demon baby? That has a certain ring to it, right?" He shook his head, and she found herself reluctantly agreeing with him. "No, I suppose I'll just keep that to myself. I can shrug and look stupid. It's a talent."

"I suppose you're right… anyway, I intend to dodge the question for as long as I can. I'm going to help Fergus rebuild Highever for a month or two, and then… I'd like to see Ferelden, I think. Riordan said I might become Commander of the Grey, and there are certain skills I need to acquire."

"You know where Morrigan might have gone?"

"I don't imagine she'd be easy to find if she didn't want to be," she said.

"True enough," Alistair said, walking with her back towards the nobles. "At any rate, I'm looking forward to meeting the rest of the Grey Wardens when they come. I know you're going off for a bit, but I'll be in Amaranthine to meet them. Someone has to! And, if I don't get the chance some other time… thanks. For everything."

"Same to you," she said, and let him fist-bump her.

"I'll let you get to your adoring public," he said with a teasing grin. "They want to see the Hero of Ferelden, and who am I to keep them waiting?"

She shook her head and moved on through the crowd, smiling and shaking hands. Teagan actually got her to mingle properly for a few minutes, but then she was interrupted by Leliana's bright smile and warm hug.

"So here we are," said the troubadour, dazzling in violet and gold. "The conquering heroine has won the day, and now she takes her bow and exits the stage. A fine ending."

"I would have been happier if everyone else was taking a bow with me," Elizabeth grumbled again, but she smiled.

"Oh, my part was small," Leliana said cheerfully. "I'm happy to watch you receive the accolades. It's quite fun. You know, I can't help now but think of my vision. The Maker sent me to help you, and look what you did. It's a miracle; it truly is."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement.

"You should know…" Leliana said slowly, "I'm thinking of going back to Orlais for a while. There are things I think I need to do there. Marjoleine was defeated, but…"

"You're certain?" Elizabeth asked.

Leliana nodded. "I have learned so much here – not least through your strength and warm-heartedness and loyalty. Don't worry. I won't turn into Marjoleine."

"Then good luck," Elizabeth said, although privately she thought that last assurance was more for Leliana than for her.

"Perhaps we will see each other when I return. I look forward to it. Until then, be well. May the Maker watch over you." Leliana smiled and disappeared into the crowd.

She was getting near the door when she found Zevran at her shoulder. When he had shown up, she didn't know, and she certainly didn't know where he had gotten the fine clothes he was wearing.

"I will be relieved when all this pomp and ceremony is done," he said into her ear with a sigh. "Such events are perfect opportunities for assassins, after all. I can't help but expect the Crows to appear at any moment. Which would be a welcome break, mind you."

She smiled, but was reminded of something she had forgotten to ask him earlier, and turned to face him. "Do you think the Crows will still come after you?"

He shrugged. "Eventually. With Taliesin dead, it may take them time to figure out what has happened… but they are like the tides. Predictable." He put his head on one side. "You know, it does occur to me that staying in one place is only going to invite the Crows to find me that much quicker. While fun, that might eventually get… complicated. You said earlier that you were planning on returning to the Grey Warden fold soon. Is that true?"

She looked away. "I'm not entirely sure what my plans are. Like I said, I want to help Fergus for a while. After that… I want to travel Ferelden some more. There are things I want to learn before I go to Amaranthine. So… yes, eventually."

"And would you be in favour of my remaining with you?" he asked quietly. "I've grown fond of you, you see. Sad, but true." He smiled, and his words were teasing, but his eyes were serious.

Did he not know? He did not want to assume? "I'd like you to stay. With me. I-if you would like." If the Crows came, it would be dangerous. But… it would be dangerous anyway, wouldn't it? They'd face it together.

He smiled more broadly, and kissed her hand with a gallant little bow. She wondered what the nobles thought and then decided that she didn't care. "Now that's a request that I would be hard-pressed to refuse. So I won't. So let the Crows come. It will make for fun times and interesting party talk, yes?" She chuckled. "Well, then. Since I am sticking around, I suppose we'll have plenty of time to speak later, yes? So go on and get paraded about. It is fun to watch." She shot him a look, and he smirked unrepentantly. "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on you and make sure no one gets a clear shot. Not without paying me a _great_ deal of coin, anyhow." He winked roguishly, and she almost threw herself at him right then and there in front of everyone.

Patience, she told herself. There would be time for that at night, when they had gone home. And then they would have to plan their journey to Highever, and see if Elra and Gemmet and Gemmet's fiancée and John wanted to come live in Highever again. And then when she came to Highever, she had to figure out what she wanted to do to get herself ready for ruling Amaranthine. Alistair certainly wouldn't want to do it.

She was near the door, and the crowd parted for Anora, who was getting ready to present Elizabeth to the populace whom she could hear cheering outside the palace gates through the open windows. She gestured for Elizabeth to join her, and Elizabeth squeezed Zevran's hand one last time and went to join her queen as the double doors were opened for them.

The Blight was over, but her life had just begun.

.

Author's note: end credits music for this fic is SnK's Bauklotze.


End file.
